
Q/^Xi^^ 






Copyright, 1883, 1895, and 189G, 
By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton & Co. 



T AM sure that if Mrs. Thaxter had lived to com- 
plete the arrangement of this hook of stories and 
verses for children, she ivould have dedicated it to her 
clear rjrandchildren and to the little nieces so near to 
her heart. I knoiv that she would like to have me 
stand in her xjlace and say that this hook is made for 
them first of all, and I am sure that it ivill help those 
%vho cannot ivell remember her to knoiu something of 
her beautiful generous kindness and delightful gay ety, 
her gift of teaching young eyes to see the flowers and 
birds ; to know her island of Appledore and its sea 
and sky. 

S. 0. J. 



CONTENTS 

STORIES FOR CHILDREN 

PAGE 

Celia Thaxter : A Sketch ix 

The Spray Sprite 3 

Madame Arachne 14 

Cat's-Cradle 22 

The Blackberry-Bush . . . ' 44 

Bergetta's Misfortunes 48 

Some Polite Dogs 55 

The Bear at Appledore 62 

Peggy's Garden, and what grew therein ... 72 

Almost a Tragedy 97 

The Sandpiper's Nest 107 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 

The Sandpiper 113 

Spring 114 

The Burgomaster Gull 115 

Little Gustava 119 

Chanticleer , . 121 

The Water-Bloom 122 

Crocus 123 

The Constant Dove 125 

The Waning Moon 126 

The Birds' Orchestra 127 

NiKOLINA 129 

Milking . . . . • 130 

Yellow-Bird 132 

A Triumph 133 

Slumber Song 135 

Warning 136 

The Butcher-Bird 137 

Fern-Seed 139 

The Great White Owl 142 



vi CONTENTS 

The Blind Lamb 144 

Dust 149 

The Scarecrow 151 

The Cradle 153 

March 155 

The Shag 15G 

Sir William Napier and Little Joan .... 157 

Bluebirds in Autumn IGl 

Tragedy 1G3 

Jack Frost 165 

A Lullaby 1G7 

April and May 168 

Robin's Rain-Song 170 

A Song of Easter 171 

Perseverance 173 

Rescued 175 

The Cockatoos 177 

The Double Sunflower 181 

In the Black Forest 183 

An Old Saw 186 

Cradle Song 187 

Marjorie 188 

King Midas 18!) 

Wild Geese 196 

The Hylas . . . , 197 

The Sparrows 199 

The Nightingale . 201 

Gold Locks and Silver Locks 203 

The Kittiwakes 205 

Lost 206 

The Kingfisher 208 

The Wounded Curlew 210 

Little Assunta 212 

Inhospitality 214 

Under the Light-house 217 

PiCCOLA 220 

Mozart at the Fireside 221 

The Flock of Doves 224 

The Kaiserblumen 225 

The Great Blue Heron 230 

The Lost Belt 232 

In the Lilac-Bush 237 



CONTENTS vii 

A Poppy Seed • . . . . 239 

Be Lovely Within 242 

The Unbidden Guest 243 

Sir Wil,lia:\i Peppekrell's Well • 247 

The Chickadee 250 

Spring Planting-Time 251 

The Albatross 253 

The New Year 254 

An Open Secret 255 

Grandmother to her Grandson 256 



CELIA THAXTEE : A SKETCH. 

No childhood could have been passed more profitably 
for the strengthening of native gifts of poetry and feeling 
than the childhood which befell Celia Thaxter. Her 
father, T. B. Laighton, lived in Portsmouth, N. H., 
where she was born in 1835. A disappointment in 
public affairs was said ever afterwards to have bent his 
strong nature out of all sympathy with his fellow-towns- 
men ; and when his daughter was five years old, he left 
Portsmouth to become the keeper of a lighthouse on one 
of the desolate Isles of Shoals, lying about ten miles off 
the Kew Hampshire coast. He vowed at this time never 
to set foot on the mainland again, and kept his vow. 
It is told that he would sometimes point out to his 
children, Cedric, Oscar, and Celia, the far line of land on 
the horizon, and tell them that was " the wicked world." 
How complete the family^s isolation was, especially in 
winter and before they moved from White Island to the 
larger Appledore, a word of Mrs. Thaxter's own will 
suggest : ^' Into the deep window-seats we climbed, and 
with pennies (for which we had no other use) made 
round holes in the thick frost, breathing on them till 
they were warm, and peeped out at the bright, fierce, 
windy weather, watching the vessels scudding over the 
intensely dark blue sea all ' feather white.' " 



X CELIA THAXTER. 

In a place where pennies '' had no other use " we 
may be sure, Ijowever, that resources w^ere not lacking to 
children of active minds. Their father was their teacher 
in books, the sea and the shore their guides to the great 
knowledge which Nature opens to her pupils. Celia 
Laighton was wisely allowed to read her full of romance 
and poetry ; the storms and calms, the wild flowers and 
birds, the march of the seasons, all gave her something of 
their lore, a wisdom in which she grew richer all her 
life ; the solitude, like that of any imaginative child, 
taught her the secrets of a child's heart, and fixed in her 
that sympathy with children which speaks through the 
pages that follow these w^ords. The story of her early 
years is one to keep us from forgetting that the truest 
education may come to those fitted to receive it through 
channels with which the schools have nothing to do. 

Her marriage was as unlike that of most women as 
her girlhood had been. To her father's house on Apple- 
dore, the island to which the family had moved when 
Celia was eleven years old, came, among other boarders, 
a young lawyer of Watertown, Mass., Mr. Levi L. Thax- 
ter. Of quiet, scholarly tastes, he wished to remove him- 
self from the world, and had not thought to find in his 
landlord's daughter of fifteen, grown old in many ways 
beyond her years, a woman whose hand he soon sought 
in marriage. Her father's opposition, on the ground 
that she was but a child, lasted only a year, and in 1851, 
when she was sixteen, she became Mrs. Thaxter. 



t CELIA THAXTER. xi 

Her removal for the winters to the . neighborhood of 
Boston opened wide to her the unknown delights of 
music, pictures, theatres, and friendships. Into them 
all she entered with zest. Music especially, of which 
she could have heard very little in Appledore, became 
one of the truest pleasures of her life. " Artists who 
sang to her," a friend has written, ^^ or those who re- 
hearsed the finest music on the piano or violin or flute, 
or those wdio brought their pictures and put them before 
her while she listened, — they alone, in a measure, under- 
stood what these things signified, and how she was lifted 
quite away by them from the ordinary level of life." 

In 1861 her first printed poem appeared. Of this she 
herself once wrote ; ^^ I had written some verses in pen- 
cil on an envelope I happened to have in my pocket and 
sent them to a friend, a woman who I knew sympathized 
with my homesickness for the sea. She gave them to 
a relative who was connected with a magazine, and he 
handed them to James Russell Lowell, then editoj of 
the magazine [the Atlantic'], who christened them ' Land- 
locked ' and printed them without a word to me, and the 
first thing I knew, I saw my verses in print, to my pro- 
found astonishmxcnt. After that I had to write for my 
friends, James T. Fields, and John G. Whittier, and 
others insisted on it. ^ Write — thee must — it is thy 
kismet,' said the great, good poet, and so I did." 

This beginning of publication was followed by constant 
writing in prose and verse. Four volumes of poems. 



xii CELIA THAXTER. 

between 1873 and 1885, told the story of her inmost, 
thoughts. The ardent love of all the things within! 
doors and without for which she cared most, the unfail- 
ing courage of a strong soul, the hand of an artist, are 
clearly to be felt in these books. Her two prose works, 
'' Among the Isles of Shoals " (1873), tells much of her 
early life, and " An Island Garden '' (1894) describes 
her flowers at Appledore and the loving labor which 
made them the glory of the island. 

After her father's death, her mother's loneliness 
brought her more and more to the islands. Her three 
sons had been born in her early married life. In 1877 
Mrs. Laighton died, and in 1884 Mr. Thaxter. From 
this time she made her winter home in Portsmouth, and 
was at Appledore for the rest of the year. One short 
trip abroad in 1880 was her only departure from the 
places in New England which none knew better than 
she. If she did not go out to see the world it came to 
her. Her house at Appledore was every summer the 
meeting-place of painters, musicians, and writers, who 
found in Mrs. Thaxter's generous friendship such in- 
spiration as few natures have the power to give. Kichly 
blest herself with artistic gifts, both of appreciation and 
of creation, she had besides a quality of strong human 
feeling which is no less rare. She died at Appledore 
August 2Q>^ 1894, leaving a name in New England let- 
ters and life which must remain distinctively her own. 



STOKIES FOE CHILDREN 



STOEIES FOR CHILDREN 



THE SPEAY SPEITE 

Once upon a time, a thousand years ago, there dwelt 
by the sea a little maid. Had I said in the sea, it 
would perhaps have been as well, for such a spray 
sprite never danced before at a breaker's edge. It 
was bliss to her to watch that great sea, to hear its 
sweet or awful voices, to feel the salt wind lift her 
thick brown hair and kiss her cheek; to wade, bare- 
footed, into the singing, sparkling brine. Above all 
things, she hated to sew patchwork. Oh, but she was 
a naughty child, — not at all like the good, decorous 
little girls who will perhaps read this story. She did n't 
like to sweep and dust, and keep all things bright and 
tidy. She wished to splash in the water the whole 
day long, and dance, and sing, and string shells, and 
be idle like the lovely white kittiwakes that flew to 
and fro above her, and came at the beckoning of her 
hand. She looked with scorn on dolls and all their 
appointments, and never wished to play with them, — 
it was almost as bad as patchwork ! But she loved the 



4 THE SPRAY SPRITE 

sky, and all the clouds and stars, the su'i that made a 
glory in the east and west at morning and jvening, the 
changing moon, the streaming iSTorthern Lights. The 
winds seemed human, so much they had to say to her. 
She thought, "The north wind fights me: the west 
wind plays with me ; the east wind sighs, and is always 
ready to weep ; the south wind loves and kisses me. " 
Every wave that whitened the face of the vast sea was 
dear to her; every bird that floated over, every sail 
that glided across, — all brought her a thrill of joy. 
And what a Avild and keen delight came to her with 
the thunder, lightning, and the rain! — but with all 
her heart she hated the cold, white snow. Much she 
liked to creep out of the house in the dusk of dawn 
and climb the highest rocks to see the morning break. 
Wrapping herself close from the chill wind, curling 
into a niche of the rough granite cliff", how beautiful it 
was, all alone with the soaring gulls, to watch the east 
grow rosy, rosier to the very zenith, till she shouted 
with joy, facing the uprisen sun! Then it was so 
splendid to stand on the rocks when the billows came 
tumbling in, sending the spray flying high in the air, 
and throwing handfuls of crimson dulse at her, or long 
brown tresses of seaweed, which she caught and flung 
back again, while she was drenched with the shower, 
and the wind blew her about in rough play. And 
blissful it was to run with the sandpipers along the edge 
of the shallow waves on the little beach, and dance in 



THE SPRAY SPRITE 5 

the clear green water; or, at low tide, to hang over 
the still surface of pools among the rocks, wherein 
lay treasures untold. 

Oh, those gardens of the sea ! who shall describe their 
beauty? It was as if a piece of rainbow had fallen 
and melted into them, such myriads of many-colored 
creatures and plants inhabited them. Dear children, 
if I were to talk to you the whole day, I could not 
tell you half the wonderful things she saw in those 
clear depths. But I think she liked best of them all 
the dainty Eolis, a delicate shell-less snail, with rosy 
spines and tiny horns. 

To watch all this marvelous life at the edge of the 
wild ocean was enchanting, and she never wearied of 
it. Then, among the higher rocks, grew a few land 
plants and grasses, and a single root of fern, a world 
of delight to her; a whole tropical forest would not 
have been so precious. She gathered plumes of the 
bright goldenrod that nodded in the clefts, and crowned 
herself with long garlands of the wild pink morning- 
glory; and the gulls and the sandpipers looked at her, 
and wondered, I dare say, what she did it for ; — they 
could have told quite as well as she. To the little 
pimpernel, always ready to shut its scarlet flowers at 
the slightest shadow of a cloud, she said: "I love you, 
pimpernel, for you 're always dreaming, and that 's 
what I like to do." And so she did dream, and with 
the everlasting sound of the sea in her ears, I Avonder 
she ever believed anything to be real ! 



6 THE SPRAY SPRITE ' 

I 
She was a very happy little maid and perfectly 

content, but still she conld not help longing to know 

what lay beyond the round horizon that hemmed her 

in with the waves, and many and many a day, rocking 

in her little boat on the tranquil water, she gazed at 

the dim line where the sky seemed to rest on the sea, 

and pondered until she was lost in a maze of aimless 

thought. 

"Over there, beyond the faint blue cloud of distant 
coast, lies the great world," she said. "Is it beauti- 
ful there ? " Sometimes at sunrise it looked most 
beautiful, flushed with delicious color, — purple, and 
rose, and gold. Vessels glided by, hither and thither, 
at all times of the day and night. Whence came they 1 
Whither did they go? If, in the morning sunshine, 
she saw the shadow of one sail fall upon another, as 
some craft passed near, the sight made this little savage 
so happy, that it was better than if she had found a 
mine of gold, — the foolish thing to be happy at a 
shadow ! 

She laughed and talked with the loons, and learned 
to imitate their weird wild cry ; she stretched her arms 
up to the big burgomaster gull flying over, crying, 
"Take me to ride with you, burgomaster, between 
your broad wings ! " Driftwood came sailing to the 
shore, bits of bark, — on what tree did they grow 1 she 
wondered. Pieces of oars, — who had paddled Avith 
them? Laths, sticks, straws, blocks, logs, branches. 



1 THE SPRAY SPRITE 7 

cones, tangled with ribbon-grass kelp and rock-weed, 
— each thing had a history if she did but know it, 
she thought. Sometimes came a green fir bough; 
there was a wonder, for no trees grew among her 
rocks, there was not soil enough to hold their roots. 
Sometimes she came upon tokens of wreck and disaster 
that made her heart shrink, for she did not like to 
think that pain was in this lovely world wherein she 
was so glad to be alive. 

But she always fancied she should find some strange 
and costly thing as she sought among the weeds and 
drift, — that some mysterious and beautiful thing 
would come floating across the sea for her, among the 
odds and ends, one day, and something did come, as 
you shall hear. 

One night she was playing on the beach alone; she 
gathered shells and seaweeds; full of joy, she laughed 
and sang to herself. It was high tide and sunset; all 
the west was red and clear; a golden glory lay along 
the calm water from the sinking sun to her feet, as she 
stood at the edge of the tide. Near by, the lighthouse 
began to twinkle in crimson and gold; far off, large 
vessels, with their sails full of the twilight, passed by, 
silent and slow. The waves made a continual talking 
among themselves, and sweet and disconsolate came 
the cry of the sandpipers along the shore. All else 
was very still. She stopped her play and sat down 
on a rock, and let her bare feet drop within reach of 



8 THE SPRAY SPKITE 

the water, while she watched the gulls slowly floatmg 
home, by twos and threes, through the lovely evening 
sky. She smiled to see them beat the air with their 
wide wings, with a slow and measured motion. She 
knew where their lonesome rock lay, far out on the 
eastern sea. 

By and by all were gone; the red faded, but a pure 
and peaceful light still held the west, and the stars 
came out one aftet one. She sat still there a long 
time; the warm wind wrapped her close, she felt no 
chill with the falling dew. Wistfully peering out 
toward the horizon-line, she did not for some time 
notice that the sea was full of cool fire, "sparks that 
snap and burst and flee ; " every wave left its outline 
in vanishing gold on the wet weeds and sand ; her feet 
were covered; it was as if she had on golden-spangled 
slippers. That was charming! The tide had begun 
to fall now, and left bare a gray rock worn and pol- 
ished by the waves — heaven knows how many thou- 
sands of years ! — till it was as smooth as satin. She 
laid her cheek against it, the dear old gray rock! it 
was her pet pillow. Though the Avater had just 
flowed over it, it was warm yet from the sun which 
had blazed down all the long clear summer day. Then 
she watched the pale flame glowing, and fading, and 
glowing again, till — Well, I never could be quite 
sure how much of what I am going to tell you she 
dreamed, and how much really happened, but the main 
points are certainly true. 



THE SPRAY SPRITE 9 

After she had been watching and listening awhile, 
she became aware of an unaccustomed sound among 
the noises of the washing tide and whispers of the 
wind. Presently she perceived, between the tide- 
mark and the ebbing water, two dim, slender figures 
busy among the weeds, and sweet, clear voices reached 
her with a merry mingling of talk and laughter. The 
figures drew near, — a youth, dark and brilliant, a 
maiden, bright and fair. They were filling little bas- 
kets with the phosphorescent sparks, and every spark 
they touched became a permanent star, so that the 
little baskets were overflowing with the harmless flame. 
She could not comprehend their talk, but she watched 
them eagerly. The youth dipped his finger into the 
pale fire, and touched with it the girl's white forehead, 
and left there a spark that flickered upward, then 
brightened and stood steady, a glittering star, so beauti- 
ful above her dusky hair ! And the child saw the fairy 
maiden blush as she swung the basket lightly to her 
shoulder. She rose up as they turned, and confronted 
them, and both sprang toward her. "Child of the 
spray," they cried, "it is thyself we came to seek;" 
and grasping her hands, they drew her gently after 
them into a small, lonely cove, where the water lay 
like a mirror, with all the stars in heaven shining out 
of it. 

And by the starlight what an enchanting sight she 
saw! Moored close to the beach, a fairy fleet was 



10 THE SPRAY SPKITE 

waiting motionless, — seven great purple mussel-shells : 
as large as her own little skiff, each lined with mother- 
of-pearl, and strewn with silken cushions; in each a 
tapering mast, from which drooped lightly down the 
idle sail, shining like silver, bright as if woven of 
thistle-down. And at each curling prow was set a 
cluster of phosphorescent stars, gleaming and never 
disappearing, and every boat had its merry crew of 
fairy creatures, and in the midst, alone in his skiff, 
sat a fairy prince with a golden crown. When they 
saw their comrades bringing the spray child, they set 
up a sweet outcry, and pushed the boats ashore with 
slender oars, and leaped out and danced about her. 
Was she awake or asleep 1 The tide had fallen farther 
yet. A large purple starfish glided on the sand and 
paused close by. Many-hued little shells crept near 
and listened, and pearly Eolis, from a crystal pool at 
hand, lifted her crested head to listen also. The child 
rubbed her eyes, and looked about on every side, — 
the sand was real beneath her feet, the familiar sound 
of the water was surely in her ears, there were the 
stars above burning steadily. She was awake, she 
thought, though it was night; but when she looked at 
the fairy prince, she thought it was sunrise suddenly. 
He came near and took her hand, and as he did so all 
the sandpipers cried aloud in their dreams, and made 
their playmate tremble with mournful foreboding. 
"Come," he said, "I have sailed across the sea, to 



THE SPEAY SPRITE U 

I 
Ishow you what lies beyond the wonderful horizon. 

(Come with me ; '' and without knowing how, she was 
ysitting in the beautiful boat by his side, and all the 
fairy creatures were busy casting off the ropes, and 
trimming the sails, with song and shout, and as swiftly 
those shimmering sails ran up to the tops of the deli- 
cate masts, the south wind filled them; sudden wafts 
of music, fine and sweet, rose and fell, and out of the 
little cove swept the fleet of shells, rustling canvas, 
gleaming stars, and brilliant faces, and all. Eapidly 
they passed from sight, and then on the lonely beach 
the sandpipers cried more disconsolately, and the waves 
broke ever with a lonelier sound, for nevermore came 
that little spray sprite back to play with them again. 

What became of her"? Well, that I will tell you 
also. At first, she was listening to such a wonderful 
story that she quite forgot everything else; but, as 
they sailed and sailed, one by one the fairy crews dis- 
appeared, and still little Idleness and the fairy prince 
sailed on and on, till at last they came to the great 
world which had looked so beautiful to the child's 
eyes from afar, — all gold, and pearl, and rose- color. 
And of what do you think she found it was made, 
after all? Why, my dear children, only patchwork! 
Everybody was doing patchwork of one kind or an- 
other, — black patches and white, blue patches and 
gray, — and everybody was so busy that it was aston- 
ishing to witness. I do not mean to say that every- 



12 THE SPRAY SPRITE '| 

body was sewing with needle and thread, but all were 
at work upon something; and she comprehended that 
while she had been dancing in the spray, wiser chil- ^ 
dren had been learning all kinds of useful things, of " 
which she knew nothing at all, and how much time 
she had lost! 

At first it was wearisome enough, — like living in 
a big ant-hill, with all the ants rushing about pell- 
mell. And then all the trees, hills, and fields seemed 
to be crowding up to the windows for the express pur- 
pose of smothering the poor mermaid. There wasn't 
half enough sky, and no water at all, to speak of; and 
everything was so stiff and still, except the hurrying 
people. The trees waved, but they couldn't go sweep- 
ing off as the grand ships did over the sea, and as for 
the fields, they were well enough, but altogether too 
still; they never changed about like the shifting, 
musical, many-colored sea. And yet some of them 
were lovely, when the Avind bowed all the tall white 
daisies toward her, like the crest of a breaking wave; 
better so than when they blushed with clover-bloom, 
or flamed in buttercups and dandelions. The brooks 
and rivers were good as far as they went, but there 
was so little of them! And if she liked the hills, it 
was because they seemed to her like huge, petrified 
waves, heaved solemnly against the sky. Alas for her 
great horizon ! She pined for it night and day. 

But gradually she began to get used to the ta' 



THE SPRAY SPRITE 13 

life, and slowly, very slowly, she found out a secret 
worth all the beauty she had lost. As young people 
don't know it generally, I '11 whisper it in your ear. 
This is it: that work is among the best blessings God 
gave the world; that to be useful and helpful, even in 
the smallest ways, brings a better bliss than all the 
delightful things you can think of, put together. And 
this bliss is within the reach of every human being. 
She was glad when she found it out for herself. And 
so now she does patchwork, to the end of her days, — 
patchwork in this case meaning all kinds of work 
under the sun, a little here, and a little there. You 
would never know now that she had been a spray sprite, 
and danced among the breakers, and talked and laughed 
with the loons, for she is like everybody else, except 
that, sleeping or waking, year after year, she keeps 
in her ears the sad, mysterious murmur of the sea, 
just like a hollow shell. 



MADAME ARACHNE 

Madame Arachxe sat in the sun at her door. 
From a spider's point of view she would have been 
considered a plump and pleasing person, but from a 
human standpoint she had, perhaps, more legs than are 
necessary to our ideal of beauty; and as for the matter 
of eyes, she was simply extravagant, having so many 
pairs she could see all round the horizon at once. She 
had built her house across the pane of a window in a 
lighthouse, and sat at her door, in all the pride of 
patiently awaiting flies. The wind from the south 
breathed upon her pretty web, and rocked her to and 
fro. Many tiny midges, small as pinheads, flickered 
and fluttered and stuck to the web. But Madame 
Arachne did not stir for them. 

"Bah!" she said; "such small fry! Why can't a 
fly of proper size come this way ? " 

The sea made a great roaring on the rocks below, 
the sun shone, it was a lovely day. She was very 
content, but a little hungry. Suddenly a curious small 
cry or call startled her ; it sounded as if some one said, 
"Yank, yank, yank!" "My goodness!" cried she: 
"what can that be?" 



MADAME AKACHNE 15 

Then was heard a sharp tapping, which shook her 
with terror much more than the breeze had shaken her. 

She started as if to run, when " Yank, yank, yank ! " 
sounded again, this time close above her. She was 
not obliged to turn her head; having so many eyes, 
she saw, reaching over the top of the window, a sharp 
black beak and two round black eyes belonging to Mr. 
Nuthatch, who also was seeking his supper, wood- 
pecker fashion, and purposed to himself to take poor 
Mrs. Arachne for a tidbit. There was barely time for 
her to save her life. She precipitated herself from 
her door by a rope which she always carried with her. 
Down, down, down she went, till at last she reached 
the rock below; but Nuthatch saw, and swept down 
after her. Her many legs now served a good purpose, 
— she scampered like mad over the rough surface, and 
crept under the shingles that lapped over at the edge 
where the foot of the lighthouse met the rock, — and 
was safe. Nuthatch couldn't squeeze in after her; 
he probed the crack with his sharp beak, but did not 
reach her; so he flew away to seek an easier prey. 
After a while, poor Madame Arachne crept out again, 
and climbed to her window, looking all about with 
her numerous eyes while she swung. "Ugh! — the 
ugly monster ! '' she whispered to herself, as she 
reached the pane where her pretty house had been 
built, — no vestige of it was left. He had fluttered 
about in every corner of the window, and with wings 



16 MADAME ARACHNE 

and feet had torn the slight web all to pieces. Pa- 
tiently Madame Arachne toiled to make a new one; 
and, by the time the sun had set, it was all finished, 
and swinging in the breeze as its predecessor had 
done. And now a kind fate sent the hungry web- spin- 
ner her supper. A big, blustering blue-bottle fly came 
blundering against the glass. Presto ! Like a flash, 
Madame had pounced on him, with terrible dexterity 
had grabbed him and bound him hand and foot. 
Then she proceeded to eat him at her leisure. Fato 
was kind to the spider; but alas, for that too trustful 
fly ! Presently she sought the centre of her web and ' 

I'ut herself in position for the night. I suppose she 
'as n't troubled with a great deal of brains; so it 

lid n't matter that she went to sleep upside-down! 

>he was still a little agitated by the visit of Mr. Nut- 
hatch, but she knew he must have gone to roost some- 
where, and so composed herself for slumber. 

Ah, how sweet was the Avarm wind breathing from 
the sea; how softly the warm blush of the sunset lay 
on rock, and wave, and cloud! She heard a noise 
within the lighthouse, — it was the keeper lighting 
the lamps in the tower; she heard a clear note from 
the sandpiper haunting the shore below. "He doesn't 
eat spiders," said she; "there is some sense in a bird 
like that! He eats snails and sand-hoppers, who are 
of no account. One can respect a bird like that ! " 
The balmy summer night came down, with its treas- 



MADAME ARACHNE 17 

ures of dew and sweetness, and wrapped the whole 
world in dreams. Toward morning, a little mist stole 
in from the far sea-line, a light and delicate fog. The 
lighthouse sent long rays out into it through the 
upper air, like the great spokes of some huge wheel 
that turned and turned aloft without a sound. The 
moisture clung to the new-made web. "Bless me," 
cried Madame Arachne, looking out, "a sea-turn, all 
of a sudden! I hope I sha'n't catch a rheumatism 
in my knees. " Poor thing ! As she had eight legs, 
and two knees to each leg, it would have been a serious 
matter indeed ! 

At that moment, there came a little stifled cry, and 
a thump against the glass of the lantern high above 
her, and then a fluttering through the air, and a thud 
on the rock beneath. What was happening now? 
She shuddered with fright, but dared not move. She 
could not go to sleep again; but it was almost morn- 
ing. 

At last the pink dawn flushed the east, the light 
mist stole away with silent footsteps, and left the fair 
day crystal- clear. Arachne still clung to her web, 
which was beaded with diamonds left by the mist. 
She did not know that Lord Tennyson had written 
about such a web as hers in a way never to be forgotten. 
He was talking about peace and war, and he said : — 

" The cob-web woven across the cannon's throat 
Shall shake its threaded tears in the wind no more." 



18 MADAME ARACHNE 

Her web was only woven across a window-pane from 
sash to sash, but it shook its threaded tears in the 
wind, that morning of late summer, and was very 
beautiful to see; but not so beautiful as the poet's 
thought. 

She wondered what could have happened, — what 
the sound could have been, which had frightened her 
in the night. She crept to the edge of the window- 
ledge and looked down, — 'twas too far, she could not 
see. By her convenient rope, she swung herself down 
to the rock, and was startled at what she beheld 
There lay her enemy, Nuthatch, stone-dead, with his 
pretty feathers all rumpled, in a pitiful plight indeed. 
He had seen the long ray from the lighthouse top 
and, dazzled, had flown toward it, taking it for sun- 
rise, followed it with a rush, and struck his heacl 
against the clear and cruel glass. That was the end oi' 
poor Nuthatch ! 

"Well, well!" cried Madame Arachne, "upon my 
word, I'm glad you're dead! Now I needn't bej* 
afraid of you. But what a silly thing! That's AvhatL! 
all creatures do who have Avings; — they flutter and] 
flutter around a light till they are banged or burned tol 
death. Better have nothing but legs. Who would' 
want wings ? Not I ! No sensible person would. " ' 

Such is spider wisdom. 

She climbed her rope, hand over hand, and reached 
her airy dwelling. There she proceeded to bestir her- 



MADAME ARACHNE 19 

self in the early morning. High in a corner chamber 
she Avove a silken cocoon, white and satin-smooth, a 
shining cradle, snug and warm; and in it laid several 
hundred tiny round eggs of dusky pink, and left them 
there to hatch when they should be ready. Then she 
|Went down to her seat in the middle of her web, and 
Iwatched the weather and hoped for flies. 

She saw white sails on the sea, she saw white gulls 
in the air, she saw white foam on the rocks, as she 
sat in the sun. Days came, nights passed, winds 
blew, rains fell, mists crept in and out, and still she 
watched for flies, with more or less success; till at last 
out crawled a baby- spider to the air, and another, and 
another, — so small they were hardly to be seen, — till 
nearly all the eggs were hatched. They stretched 
their tiny legs, cramped from long confinement; they 
crept hither and thither, and wondered at the big 
world — of one window-pane ! 

"Good-morning, my dears," said Madame Arachne, 
"I hope I see you well! " 

Every day, from the inside of the lighthouse, three 
pairs of childish eyes watched this interesting spider 
family. As the tiny ones grew larger, they began to 
build for themselves little webs in each corner of every 
pane; and each small dot of a spider put itself in the 
middle of its web, head downward, like the mother, 
and they all swung in the breeze and caught midges, 
— which were quite big enough for them. 



20 MADAME ARACHNE 

" Did you ever see anything so comical ? " said one 
child to another. "They all behave just like theii 
mother. How quickly they learn how to live aftei 
they creep out of that little egg, which is so small we 
hardly can see it! How closely all those long legs 
must be folded up in such a tiny space ! I wonder if 
all insects know so much as soon as they are hatched ! " 
" Insects ! " said the older child, " but a spider is n't 
an insect at all ! Don't you remember how papa read 
to us once that spiders belong to the Scorpion family ? " 
"Oh, a scorpion must be a horrid thing! " cried the 
younger, —" a rea^ scorpion! I'm glad they don'tt 
live in this country. I like the spiders; they spini 
such pretty webs, and it 's such fun to watch them. 
They won't hurt you if you don't trouble them; will 
they, sister ? " 

"Of course they won't," said the little girl's reas- 
suring voice. 

Madame Arachne heard them discussing her and herl; 
affairs. "They are good enough creatures," she saidt 
to herself. "They can't spin webs, to be sure, poor 
things! But then these three, at least, don't destroy 
them as that odious Nuthatch did. They seem quite 
harmless and friendly, and I have no objection to 
them — not the least." So the little spiders grew and 
grew and spun many and many a filmy web about the 
old Avhite lighthouse for many happy days. 

But late in the autumn, a party of merry birds, 
flyii^g joyously through the blue heaven on their way 



MADAME ARACHNE 21 

50uth, alighted to rest on the rock. They filled the 
air with sweet calls and pretty twitterings. Many of 
them were slim and delicate fly-catchers, exquisitely 
dressed in gray and black and gold and flame. Alas 
for every creeping thing! Snip! snap! went all the 
sharp and shining beaks, — and where were the spiders 
then? Into every crack and cranny the needlelike 
beaks were thrust; and when the birds flitted away, 
after a most sumptuous lunch, not a spider was visible 
anywhere. It was one grand massacre, — yet again 
Madame saved herself, behind a friendly shingle; and 
some days afterward the children saw her crawling dis- 
consolately about her estate in the lighthouse vv^indow. 

But the little island soon had another visitor in the 
shape of Jack Frost, Esq., who came capering over 
the dancing brine, and gave our poor friend so many 
pinches that she could only crawl into the snuggest 
corner and roll herself up to wait till the blustering 
fellow should take his departure. 

"She's quite gone," said one of the children, as 
they looked for her one crackling cold day. 

"Never mind," said the eldest. "Spring will wake 
her up and call her out again." 

And so it did. 

Now, would you like to know how I happen to have 
found out about Madame Arachne and her adventures 1 
1 will tell you, dear children. I was one of the little 
folk who watched through the old lighthouse window 
and saw them all. 



CAT'S-CEADLE 

''0 CosETTE, you are the dearest kitty!'' And 
little Max, who siDoke, laid his golden head against 
the soft fur of the big Maltese cat, and hugged hei 
tight with both arms. 

A gyi3sy fire of light driftwood sticks was sparkling 
and crackling on the hearth; the children were gatli- 
ered about it, Robert and Eose, Lettice, Elinor, and 
little Max. The rain was falling merrily on the roof 
of the low, brown cottage where they had come to livei 
for the summer. Mamma, with her work, sat in tlie' 
corner of the sofa near. 

"Well, how it does pour!" said Letty, going to 
the window. The rest followed her, and stood look- 
ing out. They saw the gray sea, calm and silvery, 
slowly rolling toward the gray sand, breaking in long, 
lazy lines of white foam at the edge of the beach. A 
few small boats were moored near; to the left, not far 
away, a cluster of fish-houses, old and storm-worn, 
their roofs spotted with yellow lichens, stood on the 
shore. There were no sails in sight, —only dim sea, 
dim sky, and pouring rain. I 

"We can't go out to-day at all! " said Eose. 



CATS-CRADLE 23 

" Not all the long day 1 " questioned Max wistfully. 

"Oh, perhaps it will clear off by and by,'' Elinor, 
the elder, said. "Who knows? Never mind if it 
doesn't, we can have a good time in the house; can't 
we, EobT' 

"Yes, we can!" Eob cried. "I'm going to make 
boats for us all, a whole fleet! Won't that be a good 
thing, mamma? And then, as soon as it clears off, 
we '11 launch them and send them off to Spain. You 
find some stiff white paper, girls. Mamma Avill give 
us some; I '11 go out to the shed for lumber to build 
my ships," and away he went. Mamma provided 
scissors and paper. Elinor turned back the rug to 
make a place for Rob to whittle ; presently he returned 
with a basket of driftwood, bits of many sizes and 
shapes, some worn smooth as satin by the touches of 
millions of waves, having floated on the ocean, Heaven 
alone knows how long. 

"Now, isn't this fun!" he said, as they all sat 
together round the basket, Rose and Lettice with the 
scissors shaping sails under his direction, while he 
proceeded to turn out of his pocket the fifty things, 
more or less, that go to make up the freight a boy 
generally carries; of course, the knife, being heaviest, 
was at the bottom. A roll of stout, brown twine 
caught Max's eye. 

"Please, Rob, let me have it to play with, for reins 
to drive Rose," he begged; so Rob tossed it over to 
him where he sat curled up with his kitty. 



24 cat's-cradle I 

''There it is, Maxie! Now, let's begin to name 
our boats, girls. I 'm going to call mine the ' Em- 
peror, ' 'cause it 's going to lead the fleet! " 

"Mine shall be the ' Butterfly, ' " said Eose. 

" That 's good ! What for yours, Letty 1 " 

" I think the ' Kittiwake ' will be a good name foi 
mine. " 

"Yes, that will do. And what shall yours be, 
Nelly?" 

" Oh, the ' Albatross, ' because he flies so fast with- 
out moving his wings ! " 

"That's fine! Now, Max, what are you going to 
call your boat 1 " 

Max was turning over the bits of wood in the 
basket. Inside the edge he had just found a brown, 
woolly caterpillar. "Oh," he cried. "See! A pil- 
low cat ! A pillow cat ! " 

"You mean a caterpillar, dear," said Letty. j 

"Do let him call it a pillow cat, Letty dear," saidi' 
mamma; "he isn't much more than my baby yet, you' 
know. " ' 

"But you don't M\ant your ship called the 'Pillow 
Cat, ' do you. Max 1 " asked Eob. They all laughed, 
tried this name and that, but nothing seemed to suit 
Max, who said "No" to everything; so they left it 
to be decided afterward. They watched their ship- 
builder with great pride and interest, but after a while 
they grew tired. 



' cat's-cradle 25 

"Let's play cat's-cradle with Max's string," Rose 
said to Letty at last, and they proceeded to try; but 
Rose did not know how, and Letty only half remem- 
bered, so they appealed to Rob. 

"Do please leave off whittling a minute and show 
us how, Rob." 

Being a good-natured brother, he threw down his 
knife and stood up before Letty while he showed her 
the ins and outs of the complicated web. Very soon 
she learned how to make it, then taught Rose, and 
they amused themselves for some time while Rob 
worked away, and Max played with his dear kitty, 
and mamma and Elinor were sewing and talking 
together. Soon as the " Butterfly " was finished, the 
girls rigged her with the square white paper sails, and 
she was " stowed " (as Bob nautically expressed it) on 
the mantelpiece, for safety. Then the "Emperor" was 
begun, but before it was half done, lunch was ready ; 
still it rained, perpendicularly pouring. Papa had 
been busy in the study all the morning, but after 
lunch he sat with the children, taking Max upon his 
knee. 

"I'll begin Max's boat," he said. "Now, mamma, 
won't you tell us a story ? We can work so much 
faster, you know." 

"Elinor is the story-teller of the family," mamma 
replied. "Let her try." So Elinor began. Rose 
curled up on the rug, Letty held Cosette, Max laid 



26 cat's-cradle 

his pretty head against papa's shoulder, and all watchec 
the whittling while they listened to Elinor. 

"Once upon a time," she began, and her pleasani 
voice went on and on; the rain pattered gently and 
steadily ; the long surf whispered with a soft, hushing 
sound, and presently, before they knew it, Max was 
sound asleep. Papa laid him among the cushions by 
mamma's side and went back to his books; then they 
found Eose had fallen sound asleep too. But the rain 
went on, and the story, and the whispering rush of 
the water, till suddenly Eose laughed out in her sleep 
so loud that she waked, sat up, rubbed her eyes, and 
then began to laugh again. 

"What is the matter, Eosy ? " they asked her. 
"Oh, such a funny dream," she said. "Such a 
qiteer dream. I thought I was standing down by the 
marsh where the cat-o'-nine-tails grow, you know; — 
the moon was just coming up over the water, yellow, 
and big, and round, and I thought it had such a funnyj 
face with two eyes that kept blinking and winking, < 
first at me and then at the tall reeds; and suddenly l! 
heard a rustling, and up the long stalks I saw a gray 
mother-cat climbing, and after her five little gray kit- \ 
tens, —oh, so pretty and so tiny. They had such l 
hard work to climb, for the bending stalks were slip- f 
pery, — and they bent more and more the higher the [ 
little cats climbed; but they kept on. One ki^tty out- 
stripped the rest and almost reached the brown, heavy 



CATS-CRADLE 27 

reed-tops, when all at once I saw that the ends were 
hung with little cradles, — real cradles, with real 
rockers, — and the first thing I knew, that foremost 
kitty had jumped in and cuddled down in the nearest 
cradle, and there she swung, to and fro, up and down 
(for the wind was blowing, too), and she looked so 
pretty with her little ears sticking up and her bright 
eyes shining, as she watched the other kittens climb- 
ing after her, for there was a cradle for every one of 
them to rock in. Then when they were all in, it was 
so comical I laughed aloud, and that woke me. But 
I wish we had the kits and the cradles to play with 
here!" 

"Cat's-cradle! " said Elinor; "why wouldn't that 
be a good name for Max's boat? " 

"Why, yes," they cried; "wouldn't you like it. 
Max ? Shall your boat be called the ' Cat's-Cradle' ? " 

"Yes," answered Max, who had waked and listened 
with interest to Rose's dream; "kitty shall go sail in 
her, rock — rock — on the water." So it was settled. 

"Just look at the sun!" cried Letty, for a great 
glory suddenly streamed in from the west, where the 
sun was sinking toward the sea, and flooded the room 
with gold. 

"Fair day to-morrow ! " cried Eob. "All the fleet 
can start for Spain! — ' Cat's-Cradle ' and all, for that 
is done, too ; " and he ranged the little vessels in a row 
on the shelf. Mamma laughed to see her mantel 



28 cat's-cradle 

turned into a shipyard; and the children went to rest 
that night full of glad hopes for the morrow. 

The day rose bright and fair. After breakfast they 
prepared to go down to the beach for their launch. 

"Let's man all the boats," said Kob; "let 'stake 
Max's Noah's Ark and put passengers on board every 
one, out of the Ark." 

"If Max is willing," suggested Elinor. 

" Are you, Max ? " asked Letty. " Oh, yes ! We '11 
send Noah to Spain in the * Cat's-Cradle ' ! That will 
be fun!" 

"Are you willing? Yes?" and away she ran up- 
stairs, and soon came back with the toy in her hand, 
shaking dogs, cats, elephants, and rats together with 
Noah and his family in hopeless confusion. 

Cosette was rubbing her head affectionately against ■> 
Max's stout little legs. ! 

"Let's take the kitty, too; she wants to go," he 
said; and out they flocked together, Cosette following, 
all dancing and capering toward the low rocks where 
the fish-houses stood, to reach a small pebbly covf 
beyond, where the water was smooth as glass. OJ 
Jerry, the fisherman, sat mending his net on the 
shore; he greeted them as they went skipping by, each 
with boat in hand. 

"Fine mornin' for your launch," quoth he; "M'ind 
offshore and everything fair." 

"Yes, they're all bound for Spain," said Kob in 
great glee. "Do you think they '11 get there to-day?" 



CATS-CRADLE 29 

"Shouldn't wonder," answered Jerry with a smile. 
"You never know what may happen in this 'ere 
world. " 

Max stood with Cosette in his arms, watching his 
"brother and sisters man the fleet. 

"I think Father Noah ought to sail in the 'Em- 
peror,' don't you?" asked Eob, "because he must 
lead the ships, you know. Shall he. Max 1 Oh, yes, 
he 's willing! Then Mrs. Noah shall go in the ' Alba- 
tross,' and Ham in the ' Kittiwake', and Shem on 
board the ' Butterfly; ' and who shall go in the ' Cat's- 
Cradle,' Max?" 

"I want to go myself!" was Max's unexpected 
reply. 

"Oh, you dear baby ! don't you see you 're too big? " 
cried Eose. 

"No — boat 's too small," said Max. "Put Noah's 
kitty in — she 's- little enough." 

"Well, she can go with Japhet," and they sought 
among the wooden beasts till Noah's kitty was found; 
then ofl" started the tiny vessels together: first the 
"Emperor," with Father Noah standing up straight 
and fine in the stern; then the "Albatross," with 
Mother Noah; after them the three other boats, their 
stiff" white sails shining in the sun and taking the wind 
bravely. The children watched them breathlessly as 
the small ships lifted over the ripples, making their 
way out of the quiet cove, till they felt the stronger 



30 cat's-cradle 

wind and began to sail rapidly awa5^ For a while 
they kept quite near together, but at last they strayec 
apart, though still obeying the outward-blowing wind. . 

"Look at old Noah,"' cried Kob, "standing up sc 
brave! Oh, he 's a great commander! " 

"Dear me, but see Mrs. Noah! She 's fallen over! '' 
cried Letty. "Poor thing! She must be frightened.'' 

"No, she's only dizzy. There's so much more 
motion than there was in the Ark ! " 

A long time they stood watching till the little white 
sails were a mere shimmer on the water. 

"When will they come back?" asked Max. "At 
supper time 1 " 

"Not so soon, I 'm afraid. Max dear." 

"Well, to-morrow, then. Will they come back 
to-morrow 1 " 

"I cannot tell." Vi 

"But I ivant them to come back," the little boy 
said, half crying. "I want to go and get them and 
bring them home." ' 

"But, Max, it takes a long time to sail all the way 
to Spain," Eose explained. "You'll have to waiti 
with patience till they are ready to come back." 

Max's lip curled grievously. "I want my boat, my 
^Cat's-Cradle,' and my Noah," he said. 

" Now, Max, never mind ! Come and see what Jerry 
is doing! He's building a fire of sticks, and he's 
going to mend his boat with tar. Just come and look 
at him ! " 



cat's-cradle 31 

They drew the little brother away. For a while 
le was interested in Jerry's work, but soon his eyes 
turned wistfully again to the water. 

"I see them! " he cried. " 'Way, 'way off! " 

The others looked; they could just see a glimmer of 
wrhite in the blue ; they could not really tell if it were 
1 white gull's breast on the heaving brine, or their 
flitting skiffs. 

"Now let them go, dear Max! We'll get some 
baskets and go after berries up beyond the pasture, 
and we '11 find some flowers to bring home to mamma; 
that will be lovely ; Cosette shall come too ; " and Max, 
cheered up, took a hand of Rose and Letty and turned 
from the glittering blue sea. 

"You go on," Eob said; "Nelly and I will get the 
baskets and follow you." So the three went up the 
scented slope together, through the sweet-fern and 
bayberry, where here and there a goldenrod plume 
was breaking into sunshine at the top, till they reached 
a big rock in a grassy spot, where they stopped to wait 
for the others. Cosette was put down in the grass, 
and ran off toward home as fast as she could. Max's 
grief came upon him afresh at this second loss. 

"Now, don't fret, dear," cried Letty. "Where's 
your piece of string, sweetheart! Isn't it in your 
little pocket? Feel and see; I'll show you how to 
make a wonderful knot Jerry showed me. " 

Max's eyes brightened as he felt in his pocket for 
the twine. 



32 cat's-cradle 

"Now see," said Letty; "I take two pieces so, and 
I put this end round this way and through that way, 
and then over so, and round so ; then you take these 
two ends in your hands and hold them loosely, and) 
Kose takes the other two ends, and when I say, 
' Now ! ' pull both together, and see what a tight 
square knot it makes ! Now, you try, Max ! " 

Max took the string and the knot. 

"I can untie it,'' he said; and forthwith began 
picking at it industriously with his little fingers till 
the ends began to loosen; he would really have accom- 
plished the undoing, had not Elinor and Eob arrived ' 
with the baskets; then they began picking berries in 
earnest. 

It was not long before they had their baskets full. 
They gathered early asters and yellow rudbeckia for 
mamma, and among the trees beyond the pasture they 
found the red wood-lilies burning like beautiful lamps 
in the green shade. When Max was tired, Elinor and 
Eob made a carriage for him, clasping each other's 
wrists with their crossed hands; so he rode home tri- 
umphant; and they trooped in together, weary, rosy, 
and happy with their treasures. 

"My boat sailed away, mamma," said Max, as they 
sat at table. 

"But all our boats went with it to keep it company, 
you know," said Letty. 

" Yes, but I want to go after it and bring it home, " 



cat's-cradle 33 

isisted Max ; and again they had to divert his mind 
■om his loss. 

In the afternoon they went down to play on the 
inds as usual, Max's nurse, Molly, accompanying. 
erry's mended dory was floating in the shallow cove; 
ley begged to be allowed to get into it, "just for 
in," and the old man put them in, Cosette and all, 
K kitty went with them everywhere. They put 
lax in the bow with his cat in his lap, and rocked 
he boat gently to and fro. 

" Oh, look at the white gull ! " cried Letty, as one 
Avept over them. "Look, Max! It is white as 
aamma's day-lilies in the garden!" But his eyes 
veie fixed on the horizon line, where shining sails 
vere dreaming far away in the sunshine. 

" There they are ! They 're coming home ! " he cried. 

"No, Maxie; those are bigger boats than ours." 

"But where have they gone, Eose? Let 's go after 
}hem, now, in this boat. I can untie the rope," he 
;ried, and he began to work on the knot which fas- 
tened the boat's "painter" to the bow. They let him 
.vork, since it seemed to amuse him so much, but they 
lid not notice that he really made an impression on the 
Large knot (which was not fastened very firmly) before 
they left the boat. When Jerry lifted him out, he 
whispered in the old man's ear, "To-morrow, may I go 
in your boat to find Noah and the ' Cat's-Cradle' 1 " 
"Oh, yes, to-night, if you want to go," said Jerry. 



34 cat's-cradle I 

"And Cosette, too?" 

" Sartin ! sartin ! " laughed Jerry ; so Max was coni 
forted. "They 're all gone," he said to Letty, lookir, 
out over the sea, "but we are going after them 1 
bring them home, Cosette and I." 

"Really, MaxT' 

"Yes, Jerry said so." 

"Jerry shouldn't promise," Letty said; but sli 
did not wish to grieve her little brother afresh, so si: 
let the matter drop. 

Molly gave him his supper and put him into h 
small white bed; tired and sleepy, he was soon in thi 
land of dreams. 

The rest of the family were at dinner. From thi 
dining-room windows they saw the great disk of tK 
full moon rising in the violet east, while the west wr 
yet glowing with sunset. The sea was full of ros 
reflections; across the waves fell the long path ( 
scattered silver radiance the moon sent down; a warr 
wind breathed gently from the land. 

"Oh, papa," said Elinor, "let's go and ask Jerr' 
to take us out sailing in the * Claribel. ' It is so lovel' 
on the water ! " 

"Well, my dear, I'm willing, but mamma doesn' 
like sailing, you know." 

"I'll stay with mamma. I don't like sailing 
either," said Letty. "We doii't mind, do wc 
mamma ? " 



cat's-ceadle 35 

"Why, no," said mamma. "Do go! Letty and I 
n^ill take a walk together. It is much too beautiful 
5) stay indoors." 

So papa with his little flock set out for Jerry and 
le "Claribel," while mamma and Letty made ready 
Dr their walk ; but before leaving the house they went 
ito the nursery to see that Max was asleep and com- 
Drtable. 

"We are going out, Molly," said Mrs. Lambert to 
he nurse. "Take good care of Max." 

Sure and I always goes to look at him every little 
/hile, ma'am," said Molly. 

Yes, I know you do. Come, Letty, are you 
eady ? " and they went out into the fragrant dusk 
ogether, strolling toward the pasture inland. 

The boat meanwhile, with its happy crew, had been 
anned away quite a distance from the warm land. 
1 few faint clouds had gathered, which, floating slowly 
iip the sky, helped to deepen the balmy darkness. 
Che brown cottage was left quite alone except for 
lumbering Max, the servants, and Cosette who lay 
uxuriously napping on the parlor rug. Presently she 
voke, stretched her long, lithe body, sat up, and 
ooked about. All was dark and still. I suppose she 
vondered where everybody was; at any rate, she went 
)ut of the door, up the stairs, and, finding the nursery 
loor ajar, — as careful Molly had left it, so that she 
night hear Max if he should call, — Cosette walked 



36 cat's-cradle 

in, jumped up on lier little master's bed, and begj 



purring affectionately and rubbing her whiskers again 
Max's rosy cheek. He half woke, and spoke out < 
his dreams. "Cosette," he said, "now it's time • 
go and find Noah and all the boats, and the ' Cat' 
Cradle', and Noah's kitty; isn't it time, Cosette?" 

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. The moon at thj 
moment was clear and filled the room with light. 

"Cosette," he whispered; "let's go, you and I, i 
Jerry's boat." 

Cosette purred and cuddled close to him. H 
slipped out of his low bed and took the cat into h 
arms. Molly was having her tea downstairs; no or 
was nigh. His little bare feet made no noise on th) 
stair ; the front door was open ; there was nothing t 
hinder them. A few minutes more and they were oi 
on the sands. Nobody saw the small white figun 
with golden hair softly blown about, carrying the graa 
cat slowly down to the water. They reached the littl 
ccve and Jerry's dory. A battered log of driftwoo' 
lay half in and half out of the water. Max pushes 
the cat before him and climbed on this, and so cref 
over the edge of the boat into the bow. 

"I can untie the rope, kitty, I know the way! 
and he began to work at the knot. It was so loos 
that he soon liad it untied. 

"Why don't we sail away?" said the little boy 
and forthwith began leaning from side to side, rockin 



cat's-cradle 37 

le boat as he had learned to do in the afternoon, 
'resently she began to move and slide off; the tide 
-as ebbing, the wind blew from the land, both helped 
er away till she drifted slowly out of the cove, be- 
ond the rocks and out to sea. Max was delighted. 
Noiu^- we 're going to find them, kitty ! Now, we '11 
ring them all back to Letty, and Eose, and Eob ! " 

The dory floated away into the dark. Nobody saw 
b, nobody knew. The wind over the water was cooler 
ban on shore, and Max's little nightdress was thin, 
le looked about everywhere over the dark waves, and 
hivered. 

"Where 's mamma T' he said. "Shall we find the 
)oats soon, Cosette?" Again the light clouds sailed 
i.cross the moon. He shrank from the sight of the 
lark water ; presently he slipped down into the deep 
)0W of the boat, protected from the wind and hugging 
he warm kitty fast. "By and by we '11 get to Noah," 
le said drowsily. The lulling sound of the light 
ipples and the rocking of the drifting dory soon sent 
lim into dreamland again ; — so they floated away on 
he wide sea, and no one knew anything about it. 

Molly finished her tea, and went to the stairs to 
isten for any sound that might come from the nursery. 
^11 was still. 

"Sure it's tired the darlin' do be," she said, 
•'* trampin' round on his two little futs the long day ! 
He sleeps sound when he sleeps at all ; " and she went 



38 CATS-CRADLE 

back to continue her chat with Betty the cook. Sh 
stayed longer than she thought; it was full half a* 
hour before she crept upstairs to look at her pet. Sli 
was surprised to find the nursery door wide opei 
Entering hurriedly, she saw the little white bed empt' 
and cold. "Max! Max, darlin' ! where do ye 
hidin' from Molly 1 " She ran from one room t 
another seeking him, calling till her voice brought th 
cook and the maid rushing upstairs to see what waJfl 
the matter. "He's gone!" cried Molly. "Mothei^ 
of Heaven! he's gone!" and she began to wail an 
cry like a banshee. 

"Stop your deavin', Molly," cried the frightene 
Betty. "Sure and it's only downstairs he's gone' 
We '11 find him below." They ran down. Here 
there, everywhere over the whole house they went 
not a trace of him could tliey find. 

"Oh, it's kidnapped he is, sure! Oh, what '11 i 
do, what '11 I do!" cried Molly, and she ran out-of 
doors to meet Mrs. Lambert and Letty, who wer< 
coming wp the path to the house. 

" Oh, missis, have yez seen him 1 " she cried, haU 
distracted. I 

" Who, Molly 1 " cried Letty, and the mother'il 
heart stopped beating as the maid answered, — 

"The baby! Sure the baby's gone entirely. J 
can't find him in the whole house ! " 

"Molly! are you wild? What can you mean' 



cat's-cradle 39 

lax gone?" She flew upstairs, followed by Letty, 
umb with fear. There was the little empty bed, 
dth a dimple in the pilloAV where the golden head 
ad lain. Pale with anxiety, they sought him every- 
where, at last ran out of the house and up and down 
he sands, but never a sign of Max or Cosette could 

hey find. 

Meanwhile, Jerry's whaleboat, the "Claribel," was 
aaking its way back, beating up toward the shore 
,gainst the light and baffling wind with the happy 
>arty on board. The moon gave but a faint lustre 
hrough the light clouds, by which they could see the 
outlines of the land. The girls had turned up their 
leeves, and held their arms as deep down as they 
ould reach into the water to see the phosphorescence 
)laze at every movement, outlining their fingers in fire 
,nd rolling in foamy flame up to their elbows; the 
ooaVs keel seemed cutting through this soft, cold 
lame; it was wonderful and beautiful, and they never 
dred of watching it. 

"I should be glad if the wind would freshen a Ut- 
ile," their father said presently. "This is all very 
iharming, but we are going to be late home for little 
folks, I 'm afraid," and he drew Kose to his knee. 

"Aren't you tired, little girl?" 

"No, papa; " but she laid her head on his shoulder., 
"Shall we soon be there, now, papal " 

"I hope so," he replied. "Bob, what makes you 
so silent?" 



40 cat's-cradle 

"I don't know, father, whether I'm asleep a: 
dreaming, or not, but it seems to me every momet] 
as if I heard Cosette mewing. Now just keep st; 
a moment all of you, and listen. There! did y| 
hear ? you have n't a cat on board the ' Claribel 
the cuddy, have you, Jerry 1 " 

"Why, no," replied Jerry, "but I've been thin| 
ing I heard something qvieer myself." 

"Father!" suddenly cried Rob, "what's that blal 
speck on the water down there 1 " He pointed to le| 
ward. At the same time a faint sound, sharp enou{( 
to pierce the breeze that blew against it, reached the 
ears. 

"If 'twas daytime, I should say 'twas the gu") 
cryin'," said Jerry, "but they don't fly nights." 

"Is that a dory anchored, Avith somebody fishing i 
asked Mr. Lambert. 

"No, sir; whatever 'tis, it's movin'. Shall ^\ 
sheer off a little and run down and see what 't is? ' 

"Do," said Mr. Lambert. As the "Claribel 
turned on her course, again the sharp cry came, tl:i 
time quite clearly, to their ears. 

"Somebody 's got a cat somewhere, now that 's sal 
tin ! " said Jerry. They all looked and listen(| 
eagerly, fixing their eyes on the dim black spec.i 
The boat with a free wind sailed faster; soon th( 
were near enough to distinguish the outline of a sm£ 
body sitting up on the broad seat in the stern of tH 
dory. 



cat's-cradle 41 

'T ain't big enough for a human critter," said Jerry. 
Sure 's you're born, it's a cat in a dory ! How 
irpon earth did it get there ? " 

" I do believe it is Cosette ! " said Kob. 

Again the moonlight broke through the rifted cloud, 
liowing them plainly Cosette sitting upright; her 
i>ng, anxious, distressed mews were pitiful to hear. 

"Upon my word, it is Cosette! " said Mr. Lambert. 

"And that's my dory," said Jerry, as he ran the 
ailboat past the skiff, then, luffing to bring her along- 
ide, caught her by the gunwale, as they reached her, 
Ind held her fast. Cosette stood up, and with a flying 
eap landed in the midst of the astonished group. 

"What's that white thing in the bow?" cried 
l^linor. " Papa ! " she screamed, for the white thing 
)egan to move, and a little voice said : — 

"I 'm bery cold, papa " — 

"Merciful Heaven!" cried Mr. Lambert. ''Max! 
VTax, is it you ? " as he snatched him out of the dory 
md clasped him close in his arms, "with only your 
lightdress on ? All alone ! Oh, Max ! how did you 
Tet there ? " 

Elinor sprang with a large shawl she had brought, 
md wrapped it closely round him; she could not 
^peak, but put her arms round her father and little 
3rother and leaned her head down on Max's curly 
pate. 

"My little boy! My dear little boy!" Mr. Lam- 



42 cat's-cradle 

bert said, over and over, and he gathered him close, 
and held him fast, as if he never could let him g 
again. 

" Oh, Max ! " cried Elinor at last, seeking for hi: 
bare cold feet under the shawl and cherishing them in 
her warm hands, "how did you get there? " 

"We did n't reach to Noah," Max said in his swee^ 
voice. "We went to find the ' Cat's-Cradle, ' — : 
Cosette and I, — and Noah and all the boats, and wJ 
could n't see them, and I was cold, and Cosette cried 
and I wanted mamma, and we couldn't find anything, 
and I want my Noah ; " the little story ended in a sob 

"Oh, you poor little darling," cried Kose. 

"If it had not been for Cosette, we never slioulc 
have known anything about it," said Rob. 

"I wonder if they have missed him at home," saic, 
Elinor. "Poor mamma! Oh, papa, I wish we coulo 
sail faster ! " 

It seemed a long time before the boat neared the 
landing so they could disembark. Some time beforei 
they reached it they saw dark figures up and down the 
beach, and guessed that the poor mother was wildly 
searching for her boy. They shouted as soon as they 
could make themselves heard: "He's here! He 
safe!" 

It was not long before she had her treasure in her 
happy arms, clinging about her neck, while the other 
children clustered eagerly round father and mother, 



cat's-cradle 43 

Iking, laughing, crying, wondering, and rejoicing, 
i at once, as they trooped into the house together. 
"Cosette!" they cried, after Max had been safely 
■eked up in his little bed once more and the little 
■-d moved into mamma's room, close at her side, — 
3h, Cosette! if it had not been for you, we never, 
tver, never should have found our dear Max again ! 
I, Cosette, you are the best and dearest kitty in the 
orld!" 



THE BLACKBEEEY-BUSH 

A LITTLE boy sat at his mother's knees, by the lon^; 
western window, looking out into the garden. It w 
autumn, and the wind was sad; and the golden elr^:^ 
leaves lay scattered about among the grass, and on tlie. 
gravel path. The mother was knitting a little stock- 
ing; her fingers moved the bright needles; but hefr 
eyes were fixed on the clear evening sky. 

As the darkness gathered, the wee boy laid his headl 
on her lap, and kept so still that, at last, she leaned I 
forward to look into his dear round face. He was not 
asleep, but was watching very earnestly a blackberry-^.; 
bush, that waved its one tall dark-red spray in the J 
wind outside the fence. ( 

"What are you thinking about, my darling?" shA 
said, smoothing his soft, honey-colored hair. i 

"The blackberry-bush, mamma; what does it say |? 
It keeps nodding, nodding to me behind the fence;;, 
what does it say, mamma ? " t 

"It says," she answered, — 

" ' I see a happy little boy in the warm, fire-lighted ! 
room. The wind blows cold, and here it is dark and \\ 



THE BLACKBERRY-BUSH 45 

onely ; but that little boy is warm and happy and safe 
t his mother's knees. I nod to him, and he looks at 
ne. I wonder if he knows how happy he is ! 

" ' See, all my leaves are dark crimson. Every day 
hey dry and wither more and more ; by and by they 
yvill be so weak they can scarcely cling to my branches, 
and the north wind will tear them all away, and 
(lobody will remember them any more. Then the 
mow will sink down and wrap me close. Then the 
snow will melt again, and icy rain will clothe me, and 
the bitter wind will rattle my bare twigs up and down. 

" ' I nod my head to all who pass; and dreary nights 
and dreary days go by. But in the happy house, so 
warm and bright, the little boy plays all day with 
books and toys. His mother and his father cherish 
him; he nestles on their knees in the red firelight at 
night, while they read to him lovely stories, or sing 
sweet old songs to him, — the happy little boy ! And 
outside I peep over the snow, and see a stream of 
ruddy light from a crack in the window-shutter, and I 
nod out here alone in the dark, thinking how beautiful 
it is. 

" * And here I wait patiently. I take the snow and 
the rain and the cold, and I am not sorry, but glad; 
for in my roots I feel warmth and life, and I know 
that a store of greenness and beauty is shut up safe in 
my small brown buds. Day and night go again and 
again; little by little the snow melts all away; the 



46 THE BLACKBERRY-BUSH 

ground grows soft; the sky is blue; the little bird 
fly over, crying, "It is spring! It is spring!" Ah 
then, through all my twigs I feel the slow sap stirring 
" ' Warmer grow the sunbeams, and softer the air 
The small blades of grass creep thick about my feet 
the sweet rain helps swell my shining buds. More 
and more I push forth my leaves, till out I burst in 
a gay green dress, and nod in joy and pride. The 
little boy comes running to look at me, and cries, "Oh, 
mamma! the little blackberry-bush is alive, and beau 
tiful and green. Oh, come and see ! " And I hear 
and I bow my head in the summer wind; and every 
day they w\atch me grow more beautiful, till at last ] 
shake out blossoms, fair and fragrant, 

"'A few days more, and I drop the white petals 
down among the grass, and, lo ! the green tiny berries. 
Carefully I hold them up to the sun; carefully 
gather the dew in the summer nights; slowly the 
ripen; they grow larger and redder and darker, and 
last they are black, shining, delicious. I hold them 
as high as I can for the little boy, who comes dancing 
out. He shouts with joy, and gathers them in his 
dear hand; and he runs to share them with his mother, 
saying, "Here is what the patient blackberry-bush 
bore for us : see how nice, mamma ! " J 

"*Ah! then indeed I am glad, and would say, if U 
could, "Yes, take them, dear little boy. I kept them 
for you, held them long up to sun and rain to make 



ai 



THE BLACKBERRY-BUSH 47 

lem sweet and ripe for yon;" and I nod and nod in 
ill content, for my work is done. From the window 
3 watclies me, and thinks, "There is the little black- 
jrry-bush that was so kind to me. I see it and I 
ve it. I know it is safe out there nodding all alone; 
id next summer it will hold ripe berries up for me 
3 gather again. 



jj ) J? 



Then the wee boy smiled, and liked the little story. 
[is mother took him up in her arms, and they went 
ut to supper, and left the blackberry-bush nodding 
p and down in the wind; and there it is nodding 
et. 



BEEGETTA'S MISFOETUNES 

Old Bergetta lay asleep on the doorstep in the sur 
Bergetta was a cat of an mquiring mind. Now a 
inquiring mind is a very good thing if it is not to| 
largely developed; but Bergetta's Avas of so lively i 
nature that she was continually led into difhcultiefi 
thereby. This morning she was having a beautifuj 
nap in the spring sunshine. Her two little white fore 
paws were gathered in under her chin, and she haci 
encircled herself with her tail in the most compact and( 
comfortable way. Now and then she lifted her sleepy 
lids and winked a little, and perhaps she saw, or did 
not see, the bright blue ocean at the end of the rocky 
slope before her, and the outline of Appledore Island 
across the strip of sparkling water, and the white sails 
here and there, and the white clouds dreaming in the 
fresh and tender sky of spring. 

It was very pleasant. Bergetta at least enjoyed the 
warmth and quiet. Her three companion cats were all 
out of her way at that moment. She forgot theii 
existence. She was only conscious of the kindly rays 
that sank into her soft fur and made her so very sleepy 
and comfortable. 



bergetta's misfortunes 49 

Presently a sound broke the stillness, very slight 
id far off, but she heard it, and pricked up her pretty 
nk-lined ears and listened intently. Two mm, bear- 
g a large basket between them, came in sight, 
)proaching the house from the beach. The basket 
emed heavy; the men held each a handle of it, and 
jry silently went with it round to the back entrance 
the house. 

Bergetta settled her head once more upon her folded 
aws, and tried to go to sleep again. But the thought 
f the basket prevented. 
What could he inside that basket ? 
She got up, stretched herself, and lightly and noise- 
ssly made her way round the house to the back door 
ad went in. The basket stood in the middle of the 
oor, and the three other cats sat at a respectful dis- 
mce from it near each other, surveying it doubtfully. 

Bergetta wasn't afraid; she went slowly towards it 
investigate its contents, but. when quite close to it 
he became aware of a curious noise going on inside 
f it — a rustling, crunching, djill, clashing sound 
diich was as peculiar as alarming. She stopped and 
istened; all the other cats listened. Suddenly a 
[ueer object thrust itself up over the edge, and a most 
ixtraordinary shape began to rise gradually into sight. 
Cwo long, dark, slender feelers waved about aimlessly 
n the air for a moment; two clumsy claws grasped 
he rim of the basket, and by their help a hideous 



50 bergetta's misfortunes 

dark bottle-green-colored body patched with vermilior 
bristling with points and knobs, and cased in hare 
strong, jointed armor, with eight legs flying in a| 
directions, each fringed at the foot with short yello\\, 
ish hair, and with the inner edges of the huge mil 
shapen claws lined with a row of sharp, uneven teettlla 
opening and shutting with the grasp of a vise, — thi 
ugly body rose into view before the eyes of the astoDl 
ished cats. ; 

It was a living lobster. 

Dear children, those among you who never hav, 
seen a living lobster would be quite as astonished a; 
the cats were at its unpleasant aspect. When you set 
these shell-fish they have been boiled and are brighl 
scarlet all over, and you think them queer and grc| 
tesque, perhaps, they do not seem frightful; but 
living lobster is best described by the use of the muchi 
abused word horrid. It seems a mixture of spide^ 
and dragon. Its jet-black shining eyes are set o]( 
short stalks and project from its head, and the rouncj 
opaque balls turn about on their stems and survey th 
world with a hideous stolidity. 

It has a long, jointed tail, which it claps togethe 
with a loud clash, and with which it contrives to dra"V' 
itself backward with wonderful rapidity. 

Such was the hard and horny monster that raise( 
itself out of the basket and fell with a loud noise al 
in a heap on the floor before Bergetta. She drev 



bergetta's misfortunes 51 

ick in alarm, and then sat down at a safe distance to 
)serve this strange creature. The other cats also sat 
)wn to watch, farther off than Bergetta, but quite as 
uch interested. 

For a long time all was still. The lobster, probably 
ither shocked by its fall, lay just where it had landed, 
aside the basket a faint stirring and wrestling and 
ashing was heard from the other lobsters, — that was 
11. Very soon Bergetta felt herself becoming ex- 
•emely bored with this state of things. She crept 
I little nearer the basket. 

"I needn't be afraid of that thing," thought she, 
it doesn't move any more.'' 

' Nearer and nearer she crept, the other cats watching 
er, but not stirring. At last she reached the lobster 
hat in its wrath and discomfort sat blowing a cloud of 
ainbow bubbles from its mouth, but making no other 
aovement. Bergetta ventured to put out her paw 
nd touch its hard shell. It took no notice of this, 
hough it saw Bergetta with its queer eyes on stilts, 
irhicli it wheeled about on all sides to "view the pros- 
)ect o'er." 

She tried another little pat, whereat the lobster 
vaved its long antennae, or feelers, that streamed away 
»ver its back in the air, far beyond its tail. 

That was charming ! Bergetta was delighted. The 
nonster was really playful! She gave him another 
ittle pat with her soft paw, and then coquettishly 



52 bergetta's misfortunes 

boxed his ears, or the place where his ears ought ! 
be. There was a boding movement of the curio 
shelly machinery about his mouth, an intricate n( 
work all covered Avith the prismatic bubbles he h 
blown in his wrath, but he was yet too indifferent 
mind anything much. 

Bergetta continued to tease him. This was fuii 

First with the right and then with the left paw si 

gave him little cuffs and pushes and pats which move 

him no more than a rock. At last he seemed 

become suddenly aware that he was being treated wit! 

somewhat more familiarity than was agreeable from a; 

entire stranger, and began to move his ponderous frort 

claws uneasily. j 

Still Bergetta continued to frisk about him, till h' 

thrust out his eight smaller claws with a gesture J 

displeasure, and opened and shut the clumsy teeth qI 

the larger ones in a way that was quite dreadful tJ 

behold. "This is very funny," thought Bergetta. "."' 

wonder what it means!" and she pushed her littlJ 

white paw directly between the teeth of the larger clavV 

which was opening and shutting slowly. Instantly 

the two sides snapped together with a tremendous grip, 

and Bergetta uttered a scream of pain, —her paw was 

caught as in a vise and cut nearly through with the 

uneven toothed edge. 

Alas, alas! Here was a situation. In vain she 
tried to get away; the lobster's claw clasped her deli- 



bergetta's misfortunes 53 

ite paw in a grasp altogether too close for comfort, 
rying with fear and distress, Bergetta danced about 
1 over the room; and everywhere Bergetta danced 
le lobster was sure to go too, clinging for dear life; 
p and down, over and across, they went in the wildest 
ind of a jig, while all the other cats made themselves 
3 small as they could in the remotest corners and 
atched the performance with mingled awe and con- 
vernation. Such a noise! Bergetta crying and the 
)bster clattering, and the two cutting such capers 
:)gether! At last some one heard the noise, and 
3ming to the rescue thrust a stick between the clumsy 
3eth and loosened the grip of the merciless claw; and 
oor Bergetta, set at liberty, limped off to console her- 
3lf as best she might. 

For days she went limping about, so lame, she could 

ardly creep round the house. When at last she 

egan to feel a little better, she strayed one day into 

he same room, and seeing what she rightly guessed 

be a pan of milk on the table, jumped first into 

chair, and then up on the table to investigate, 
haughty Bergetta! Yes; the pan was full of milk 
.ot yet skimmed. How luscious ! She did not wait 
or anybody's permission, but straightway thrust her 
(ink nose into the smooth, creamy surface. Now it 
ras washing day, and just under the edge of the table, 
lehind Bergetta, on the floor, a tub full of hot suds 
lad been leit. She lifted up her head after her first 



54 bergetta's misfortunes 

taste of the cream — how nice it was — oh, horri 
what did she see! Just opi^osite her on the table \ 
another lobster with its long feelers bristling; it 1 
been boiled, by the way, but of course Bergetta coi 
not know this tranquilizing fact. Bright scarlet, w 
its dull dark eyes pointed straight at her, it dawrJ 
upon Bergetta's terrified vision. 

So eager she had been to look into the milkpa; 
she had not discovered it before, and noAV her frig: 
was so great that she gave one leap backwards a:\ 
fell, splash ! into the tub of warm suds. 

Good heavens, what a commotion! With eye 
ears, nose, and mouth full of soapy foam, she crawLl 
out of it and, more dead than alive, ran to the do 
and forth into the cold, leaving a long stream of su«] 
on the floor in her wake. The wind blew tln-ou^; 
her soaked fur and chilled the marrow of her bones. 

Poor Bergetta ! All the other cats came round hn 
and stared at her with astonishment; and I'm afrai' 
if cats ever do laugh, they certainly laughed at Be 
getta when she told them her morning's experience. 

I don't think she ever coquetted with a lobste 
again or tried to steal milk from the pan, but wer 
mewing about, rubbing her cheek against the kin 
little cook's foot till she gave her all a cat could wish.| 
And let us hope she escaped any more such dirl 
disasters during the rest of her life. 



SOME POLITE DOGS 

It was a lovely day in autumn. Little Lotty, the 
,,urly terrier, was asleep at my feet in the warm patch 
.f September sunshine that lay on the floor. I had 
)een sitting still a long time, so busy with my work 
hat I had thought of nothing else. Looking up at 
ast at the crimson hollyhock that stood, tall and 
;plendid, outside the window, I caught a glimpse of 
.he blue sea beyond, and the clear, warm sky, and 
'ealized how beautiful the afternoon had grown. 

"Come, Lotty, wake up!" I cried to the little dog; 
'let 's go for a walk." 

Lotty jumped up, wide awake in an instant, and 
barking like mad with delighted expectation, as all 
her kind are wont to do at such a prospect. I gath- 
Bred my sketching paraphernalia together, and, calling 
the maid to help me, I set out down the grassy slope 
to the sea's margin, which sparkled and flashed, edged 
with the flood-tide's lazy surf, hardly more than a 
stone's throw from the door. Lotty, in an ecstasy, 
frisked, barking wildly, before and behind me, like a 
small hurricane of joy. Down the field through the 
bars, into the cart-path for a few steps, — wild rose- 



56 SOME POLITE DOGS 

bushes bright with scarlet haws on either side, — acj 
the coarse sea grass and rough pebbles at the to 
the beach, out at last upon the beautiful level str( 
of gray sand, smooth and hard as a floor, half a i 
long, and curved like the crescent of the new met 
We traversed one fourth of its distance, then I , 
ranged my umbrella and my easel, and sat down re 
for a good time. Lotty came to anchor likewise, Ji 
sitting bolt upright on the sand, eyed me curiou| 
from under her comical frowsy locks. 

"Well, my dear," I said, "what do you think 
it?" 

With a shake of the head and a wng of the tail, i 
crept close to my feet and lay down, as if she me{ 
to make the best of it, at any rate. I proceeded 
begin my sketch. ])ut the place was so enchantir| 
on every side so beautiful, I found it hard to do a:| 
more than to look and to love everything I saw, i 
a long time. The sea was the most delicious turquoi 
blue, and where it ran up over the shallows, the col 
melted into transparent emerald, the long, slow billoi 
lifted themselves lazily and rolled in with soft ru^ 
and whisper, almost too lazy to roll at all. Wie 
the foam sparkled at the edge of the sand, kelp ar 
weeds were scattered in broken lines of rich browi 
dull purple, crimson, and olive green. Far away 
few sails were dreaming; a group of snowy gulls ros 
and fell on the long swell of the ocean close at banc 



SOME POLITE DOGS 57 

'^i the left, tall marsh-grass came down to the top of 

'1 beach in streaks of yellow, red-brown, and ripe 

en, with patches of crimson samphire beginning to 

w in the rockier places; all about me were the wild 

^ebushes with their scarlet berries. I turned away 

m the water and looked up to the house I had left; 

f red roofs and dull yellow-green walls steeped in 

sunshine, — rich and deep in color, — the vines 

'ji flowers about it, and th^ huge old elm in front 

it, the broad fields and mellowing woods, seemed so 

iceful and happy that I spoke aloud, "How heav- 

y it is ! " 

Lotty perked up her head and looked at me. 
ughing at her funny expression, I turned to my 
itch and began working in earnest. The crickets 
amered pleasantly, the sweet sad cry of myriad gold- 
ches among the drying sunflower stalks and weeds 
.mded incessantly; a crow cawed now and then, a 
11 high aloft in the blue uttered a harsh cry which 
e distance softened; a little beach-bird flew piping 
mg the sand. Lotty pricked up her ears. 

No, no, my dear! " I cried. "You are not to run 
':er any little bird whatever. Stay here and behave 
urself like a good dog;" for she had jumped up, 
d was already starting away to chase the feathered 
sature. With a very aggrieved and reproachful ex- 
ession she returned and sat doAvn a few feet from 
But I only continued to laugh at her, and went 



58 SOME POLITE DOGS 

on with my painting, presently becoming so eng 
in it that I forgot she was there. 

Some time passed. Suddenly a small pa 
thrust into my paint-box, and there was poor 
standing on her hind feet looking at me, as mul 
to say : — 

"Oh dear, I'm bored to death. Why don' 
take a walk ? Why have you planted yourself 
where you are doing nothing at all ? Why don 
go home, if we can't go to walk? Oh dear, oh de 
And she actually began to cry. 
"Well, go home! you little goose," I cried, gri 
amused. " I don't want you to stay ! " 

She left me, went a little way toward the he 
then turned back and looked at me, whining and c 
ing. Suddenly she came running and cuddled dl 
again affectionately, as if she thought, "Well, 
sorry you 're such an idiot, but I won't desert J 
though you do behave in this extremely foolish 
unreasonable manner. " 

So she lay patiently watching me from under 
tangled shock of hair till I began to put up my brus: 
and made ready to depart. 

The sun was nearing the western horizon in a gol 
glory as I shouldered my easel and took my ^ 
toward home, Lotty dancing with delight. I co 
not call the little maid to help me back, so 1 arran. 
the things as well as I could. I had not a regi 



SOME POLITE DOGS 59 

'tching outfit, and my long easel, though light, was 
ler difficult to carry ; but I put my head through 

V end, resting the two legs on my shoulders. I 
'l also to carry a small chair, a large umbrella, my 
tching-block, a tin pail in which I had brought 
sh water, and over my left arm I hung a leather 
; containing paint-boxes, brushes, etc. This was 
ite heavy, and the whole load was as much as one 
•son could take ; but I had not far to go, so trudged 
wly along till I turned from the beach into the 
en field that sloped from the house to the sea; 
tty all the while capering and barking, rejoicing 
it I had regained my senses at last. Her noise was 
sently heard by the other dogs, which joined in the 
orus afar off, and I saw appear at the upper edge 

the field the two great St. Bernards, Champer- 
wne and Nita, looming large against the sky. They 
)pped, gazing at us from the distance, as if taking 
I the situation ; then in a moment they began to rush 
.wn toward us with long, loping canter, and knowing 
eir affectionate impetuosity I said to myself : — 
!"Now I am lost! they will come full tilt against 
e and all these traps, and I shall be a total wreck." 
: Amused, and more than half dreading the onset, I 
bod still and waited, admiring the magnificent, tawny, 
bn-colored creatures as they swept toward me, their 
5autiful eyes beaming with intelligence, and all their 
.otions full of grace. 






60 SOME POLITE DOGS 



Suddenly the great dog Champernowne, as i|^e 
readied me, stopped perfectly still without toucl 
me, and before I knew what he was going to do, stj v , 
upright on his hind feet, as tall as myself, qui(jji, 
slipped his under jaw through the handles of the ll^ 
which swung on my arm, and with the grace ai 
courtesy of a grand duke, nothing less, gently ai, 
firmly drew it off, and turning, proceeded decorous^ 
up the path that led to the house, bearing it with tl 
utmost care- 
Astonished and delighted, I cried, "Bravo, Cham), 
Good dog ! fine fellow ! You saw I needed help, ar 
you gave it like a gentleman, didn't you*? But wl; 
would have thought you had so much sense 1 " The 
Nita, hearing all these praises lavished on her comradl 
wished to have her share also; and joining Chamji 
she too seized hold of the bag, and both togethj 
trotted side by side all the Avay to the house, whe! 
they arrived some time before I reached it, and whe 
I found them faithfully keeping guard over my pro 
erty on the threshold. 

"Well, you are certainly the very handsomest, bes 
and dearest dogs in the whole world ! " I cried, as 
opened the door and allowed them to crowd into tl 
pleasant room, Lotty and two or three of the small 
dogs accompanying them with much frisking and barl 
ing. But Champ and Nita, appreciating to the utmoi 
the importance of the occasion and the magnitude t 



SOME POLITE DOGS 61 

I favor extended to them, took their seats on the 
rth before the open fireplace with the greatest dig- 
\. This was the summit of delight to them, to be 
wed to sit in the house before the fire and enjoy 
' society of their human friends, — a favor not too 
in accorded them. A handful of driftwood had 
n kindled on the hearth to take off the chill of the 
ning fast closing in. Presently they spread their 
bulks out on the rug before it in blissful satisfac- 
1, while I patted their heads and stroked their long 
, and told them how I admired them, how proud I 
V of them, till their eyes shone with delight, and 
|y fairly laughed for joy! 



THE BEAE AT APPLEDOEE 

Mr. Bret Harte once told so charming a sv 
about a bear, dear children, that I hesitate about 
ing you mine — which, indeed, is hardly a story 
all; but perhaps you may like to hear what I hav( 
tell. 

Our bear came from Georgia when he was a tl 
baby-bear; but he was not nice and soft and sii 
like Mr. Harte 's bear, — he was rusty and brown 
shaggy and rough, and he looked askance at everybj 
out of his little eyes, that were as black as beads, 
dare say he did not find it at all agreeable to come] 
the way from Georgia to the Isles of Shoals; 
I am sure he did not find it pleasant after he arrii 
at his destination. He was tethered to a stick ii 
grassy space in front of the house, and the child:! 
played with him, morning, noon, and eve, one wb 
long summer. Alas ! I fear he was often weary of 
brief life, and would have been glad never to h.' 
been born. For, I am sorry to say, there were ma 
naughty and thoughtless children among those 
played with him, — unkind boys who poked at h 
with sticks and rolled him over and over in his he. 



THE BEAR AT APPLEDORE 63 

less, and teased and tormented him till it was 
ost too much to be borne. The little girls Avere 
ier; one especially I remember, who used to hold 

in her arms as if he had been a big kitten, and 
his dusky head on her shoulder, and put her cheek 
n against his shaggy crown so tenderly, and sit 
dug to and fro on the grass with him hours at a 
e. And often after she went to bed at night, I 
dd hear her sighing out of the fullness of her heart, 
h, that dear, dear bear ! " 
/Yell, the poor little creature endured his captivity 

the eighth day of September, when there came a 
,iiendous storm, with a wind from the south, which 
5 neither more nor less than a hurricane. Windows 
e blown in, buildings blown down, shingles ripped 

roofs in flying flocks, — there was a fine tempest ! 
great copper- colored arch spanned the black sky at 
ht o'clock in the evening; the sea lifted itself up 
I flung itself, white with fury, all over the island ; 
I in the midst of the tumult the little bear disap- 
ired. Nobody thought of him, there was such a 
fusion, everybody trying to save themselves from 
; fearful wind that had smashed the windows and 
iken into the houses and was destroying everything, 
spite of all we could do. Terror probably gave the 
Dy-bear strength; he tugged wildly at his chain, it 
[)ke, and he fled away through the dark, and when 
3 morning came we could not find him anywhere. 



64 THE BEAR AT APPLEDORE 

Fortunately, the gale only lasted a few hours, and ali 
sunrise next day the sea was calm, except just aboui 
the rocks, where it rolled in tremendous breakers anc 
cast clouds of diamond drops up toward the sky. A 
fishing-schooner had been wrecked at the south sid( 
of the island; I went. over to look at her. It was no 
cheerful to see her crushed hull heaving helplessly uj 
and down, and the poor fishermen sadly picking u[ 
here and there fragments of ropes, rigging, and fish 
ing-gear which the awful sea had spared them; so J 
wandered away along the shore, and at last sat dowr 
on the edge of a high cliff and admired the great) 
gleaming, sparkling floor of the ocean and the wondepi 
ful billows that shattered themselves in splendor bet 
tween me and the sun. I pushed with my foot a Ibi)' 
of stone over the brink of the crag, and heard it ial 
below; but, at the same time, I heard another a*n'i| 
quite an unexpected sound, — a noise hardly to bl: 
described, something between a hiss and a whist^ki 
which came up to me from the gorge below. I kniv 
at once it could be nothing but the bear, and leari'.ei 
over and looked down. Sure enough, there he wths 
a black heap curled up on a shelf of rock just belo- 
me, a few feet out of reach. He looked so comforf 
able, for it was the sunniest, cosiest nook, and litt^i 
vines of scarlet pimpernel trailed about him, ah- 
plumes of goldenrod waved out of clefts in the rocfe 
and a tall mullein stood up still .and straight besidl 



THE BEAR AT APPLEDORE 65 

lim, its head, heavy with thick-set seed-vessels. I 
>vas surprised to see him, and very glad, as you may 
magine; so I called out in the most engaging tones, 
'Good-morning, my dear; I 'm very glad to see you! " 
I am pained to say, he looked up at me with an 
3xpression of intense cunning and unlimited defiance, 
ind uttered again that shrill, suspicious half hiss, half 
,\vhistle, which being interpreted might signify "Male- 
diction ! '' So fierce he looked and savage, with that 
distrustful sidelong leer out of his black eyes, he was 
far from being an agreeable object to look at; and as 
I could not carry him home alone, or even capture 
him, I was obliged to leave him alone in his glory. 
But I made a little speech to him over the cliff edge 
before going away, in which I sympathized with his 
sorrowful state. "If I only could have had you for 
my own, poor little bear, you should not have been 
teased and plagued and had your temper spoiled. 
Don't cherish resentment against me, I beg of you! If 
you '11 only stay here till I come back, I '11 bring 
you something to eat, and lumps of sugar, my dear." 
And so I went away and left him snarling. But when 
I went back he had disappeared, and, though we 
sought for him everywhere, we did not see him again 
for nearly seven months. I was sure he was alive all 
the time, snugly stowed away in some deep crevice, 
sucking his paws, perhaps, which I had been told was 
a favorite pursuit of bears in the winter season. But 



66 THE BEAR AT APPLEDORE i 

my belief was scorned and flouted by the rest of the' 
family. "What!" they cried, "yon think that little 
creature could live in this zero weather so many weeks, 
so many months, with nothing to eat "J Of course he. 
is frozen to death long ago ! " But I believed him to 
be alive all the same; and I was not surprised when, , 
one evening in April, while the sky was warm and 
crimson with sunset, there rose a cry outside the,^ 
house, " The bear ! the bear ! " and from the window 
I saw him, grown twice as large as he had been in the 
autumn, clumsily climbing over a stone wall near byj 
All the men about the house gave chase; but he- 
plunged bravely over the rocks and suddenly disap- 
peared, as a drop of water soaks into the ground, in a 
large seam in the side of the hill. There they found 
his cave, all strewn with bones and the feathers of 
fowls. They could not dislodge him that night; but 
in the morning they made a business of it, and at last 
brought him down to the house with a rope around 
his neck, a most reluctant and indignant quadruped. 
As there were no children then to tease him, he led a 
peaceful life for two months, and I tried by the most 
persevering kindness and attention to make his days 
less unhappy. I led him about from place to place, 
selecting new spots in which to fasten him, and feed- 
ing him with everything I knew he liked. I even 
brought him into the house, though he was as large 
as a Newfoundland dog, and spread a mat for him iii 



THE BEAR AT APPLEDORE 67 

3 corner; but his temper had really been hopelessly 
ired in his youth, and though I knew he was de- 
hted in the depths of his heart when he saw me 
ning with his beloved lumps of sugar, he never 
lid refrain from lifting up the corners of his mouth 

that ugly snarl, and uttering his distrustful hiss, 
. I became quite discouraged. At last he broke his 
lin again, and disappeared a second time. All 
aimer he kept himself hidden by day, but crept 
fc after sunset, foraging; and he was the terror of 

the mothers who came to Appledore, and the chil- 
bn were watched and guarded with the greatest care, 
t he should find one and run away with it. But 
3re wasn't really any reason for so much alarm, 
le poor bear was quite as much afraid of human 
ings as they could be of him. 

Summer passed and winter came again, and he 
tied himself once more in the cave on the hillside 
d slept till spring. But when he emerged for the 
iond time, behold, he had waxed huge and terrible 

see. With difficulty he was secured, and it was 
cided that now he was really dangerous and must be 
sposed of in some way. About a mile and a half 
)m Appledore lies a little island called Londoners, 
3n occupied by a foreigner, who lived there with 
5 family. This man was found willing to take care 
the bear ; a price was agreed upon for his care and 
ep, and he was tied and put into a boat and rowed 



68 THE BEAR AT APPLEDORE 

over to his new home one pleasant day in early sum- 
mer, and there left and forgotten by the inhabitants o: 
Appledore. But in August I went over to Londoners, 
one delicious afternoon, to gather the wild pink morn 
ing-giories that grew there in great abundance. ! 
found them running all over the rocks and bushes, u| 
elder and thistle stalks, and I carefully untwisted the!' 
strong stems and hung one vine after another over m\ 
shoulders till they fell down like a beautiful gree* 
cloak to my heels, for by carrying them in that wa;; 
there was no danger of crushing or injuring the budi 
and rosy bells that still were open, though it wa 
afternoon. The cool sea air prevents their withering 
and closing as they do on the mainland, and they keeji 
open all day. I was going toward the beach with m\ 
burden, when suddenly I came upon the bear. Oh 
but he was a monster! He gave a savage growl whe|( 
he saw me, an indescribable sound of hatred ani 
Avrath, and his eyes glowed red and angry. You ma;; 
be sure I started back out of his reach in a flashl 
He was fastened by a heavy chain to a small stake 
he had worn the green grass dry and dead as far a 
he could pace; he was huge, heavy, horrid. I cam 
away from him as fast as I could. As I passed nea 
the little shanty, there ran out from the door, am 
stood directly in my path, a poor little girl six or seve 
years old. She was dressed in a flaming pink calic 
gown, and over her shoulders tumbled a thicket c 



I 



THE BEAR AT APPLEDORE 69 

11 carrot-red hair, which looked as if it had never 
,11 a coAib, —so dry, so rough, so knotted and 
led it was. She had small pale blue eyes; and 
opened her mouth and uttered some words which 
inly strove to understand. Still she kept repeat- 
r her incantation, over and over, with the same 
potonous tone, till I really began to wonder if she 
ire not some funny little gnome sprung up out of 
e earth at my feet. I looked about; behind me 
ouched the dark bulk of the angry bear, before me 
the distance I saw my friends pushing off the boat 
fd making ready to depart. Suddenly, my ears hav- 
crrown accustomed to the savage syllables of the 
range being, it flashed on me that she was saying, 
^Five cents for looking at the bear ! — five cents for 
pking at the bear!" precisely as if she were a 
lachine that could do nothing else; and she never 
opped saying it till I broke into hearty laughter, 
ad answered her, "My dear Miss Caliban, I have 
jen the bear before! I didn't come to look at the 
2ar; and beside, I haven't brought any money with 
or I would give you some," upon which she 
^rned and hopped back with a motion and clumsi- 
pss more like a large pink toad than a human being, 
rieat was everybody's amusement at the idea of taxing 
ae public for 'booking at the bear." All who landed 
Londoners Island, it seemed, were obliged to pay 
,ve cents for that privilege ! 
I 



70 THE BEAR AT APPLEDORE 



I 



But the huge fellow was brought back to Appledoie 
in September, and then his enormous strength and 
enormous appetite made him anything but an agreeable 
addition to the family. Every night, when it avu^ 
quite dark and still, and all the inmates of the house 
asleep, he prowled about, seeking what he might 
devour. Bolts and bars were nothing to him; suclr 
little impediments as windows he minded not in thek 
least, but calmly lumbered through them, taking sash,: 
glass, and all as he came. Then he made off with 
everything he could find in the way of provender, and 
kept himself hidden all day, safely out of sight of 
men. One night the family had retired early, and alii 
were wrapped in dreams. It was between ten and 
eleven o'clock, and dark and moonless, when he stolel 
softly beneath the windows of the store-room, where 
were kept barrels of beef, pork, and lard, and molasses 
most tempting. He climbed to one of the low win-i 
dows and set his mighty shoulder against it. Crash ! it 
gave way, and down he plunged, making noise enough! 
to wake the dead. Two women were sleeping above' 
in that part of the house, but they were too frightened 
to leave their rooms and call assistance; so they lay 
and trembled while our four-footed friend made him- 
self quite at home below. Oh, but he had a splendid 
time of it! He extricated great wedges of pork to 
carry off to his den; he wallowed into the top of the 
hogshead of lard till he must have been a melting 
spectacle; he worried the faucet out of the molasses 



THE BEAR AT APPLEDORE 71 

isk and set the thick, sweet stream running all over 
lie iloor, and then rolled in it till he must have been 
sugar-coated quadruped indeed. Never was a bear 
n such a paradise! He made expeditions to his den 
hrough the broken window, carrying off nearly a bar- 
el of pork, and spent the greater part of the night in 
ihat blissful lake of molasses. But when the morning 
iawned and the state of things below was investi- 
gated, great was the wrath and consternation in Apple- 
lore. What was to be done 1 Evidently this was too 
xpensive a pet to be kept on a desert island; at this 
rate, he would soon dispose of all the provisions, and 
most likely finish off with the inhabitants in default 
of anything better! A dreadful decree went forth, — 
that bear must die! He was, indeed, too dangerous 
in his fearful strength to be allowed to live. But to 
ifind him, —there was a difficulty! One of the men 
Iwas shingling on the highest roof; he looked about 
him, and afar off, curled in a green, turfy hollow, he 
saw the large, dark mass of Bruin's body lying, like 
;the Sybarite he was, steeping himself in sunshine, 
after his night's orgy in the store-room. Somebody 
was sent out with a rifle-pistol, and before he knew 
that danger was near, the sun had ceased to shine for 
that poor bear. It was so instantaneous he hardly 
felt his death, and I was glad to know that, at last, 
all his troubles were over; but I was sorry he had 
ever left the wilds of Georgia to take up his abode 
with us at the Isles of Shoals. 



PEGGY'S gaede:n^, aj<^t> what geew 

THEEEIN 

"Peggy! Peggy I " Who was calling Peggy] 
But the question seemed rather to be who was nc 
calling her. From the corner by the low windoi 
came the grandmother's querulous voice, "Peggy, mi 
dear, come and pick up my stitch! I've dropped 
stitch, and my old eyes can't find it," and Peg^ 
turned to her; but before she had straightened the 
knitting, a little voice rose in a wail from the doorJ 
step, where her small brother whittled a boat from 
water- worn shingle, "Oh, Peggy, I've cut my finger! 
Oh, come, Peggy, bring a rag and do it up ! " am 
mother by the cradle said, "Peggy, do take the babj 
a minute while I finish mixing the brown-bread.'^ 
Even outside the cottage door father was saying, 
"Peggy, dear, bring me a drink of water," as he tin- 
kered his dory close by. She took the baby from hei 
mother's arms and went to the woeful brother. "Don't 
cry, Willy, dear, run to mother for a rag; wait a 
minute, please, father," — and Willie having brought 
a little strip of cotton, she sat down on the doorstep 
and proceeded to bind the wounded finger while the 



sggy's gakden, and what gkew therein 73 

jy lay cooing on her knees. "Now run, and take 

^e water to father; there 's a good boy," she said, 

she wiped the tears away from two cheeks like 

pies, round and rosy. And Willy scampered for 

dipper, and carried it dripping to his father, and 

3n returned to nestle close to his sister's side. The 

by fretted a little, and Peggy gathered it up and 

d its pretty head tenderly against her shoulder and 

Doned to it soft and low : — 

' There was a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea. 
And oh! it was all laden with pretty things for thee! " 

.1 it opened its large wise eyes and gazed out at the 
itter and sparkle of the bright day, and tried to find 
p mouth with its thumb in an aimless but contented 
ishion. 

"Sing the rest of it, sister," begged Willy. 

There was a world of love in the little fellow's ges- 
ire as he slipped both hands around Peggy's arm and 
ugged it tight while she went on : — 
There were com tits in the cabin and apples in the hold, 
The sails were made of silk and the masts were made of gold: 
The four-and-twenty sailors that walked about the decks 
Were four-and-twenty white mice with chains about their necks; 

The captain was a duck with a compass on his back, 

And when the ship began to sail, the captain cried, 'quack, 
quack!'" 

"Now sing it all over again!" cried Willy, laying 
lis cheek against the arm he was hugging; "do please 
ling it all over again! " And laughing, patient Peggy 
DBgan it again. 



74 PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 

There was a porch outside the door, and the shadow 
of its square roof fell on the wooden step where th 
children sat. There were vines of flowering-bean anc 
morning-glory trained up at the sides, all blossomin|i 
:n scarlet clusters and deep blue bells. 

It was a hot, bright July day. Before the cottag( 
stretched the level beach of purplish-gray shimmering 
sand; and beyond it the summer sea, light turquois( 
blue and calm, lay smiling, streaked witli lines of lazj 
foam from long-spent breakers far away. On a prom 
onotory reaching to the east, the large mass of thd 
buildings of a great hotel basked in the heat, iUi 
warmly tinted walls and red roofs dimly beautiful in 
the soft haze of the distance. The pine woods were 
thick behind the cottage and stretched away to the 
south; near it a patch of earth was devoted to "gardenr 
stuff," — potatoes, beans, and the like, and beyond( 
this was a flower-garden, so luxuriant and splendid ini 
color that one wondered at seeing it in so poor a place.- 
Peggy's childish voice was very pleasant to hear as: 
she sang to the children. 

Her father and mother had given her the sweet and 
stately name of Margaret, but her grandmother had 
adopted its old-fashioned abbreviation of Peggy, and 
it had grown dear in all ears where she was known. 
She was a girl of about thirteen, not tall for her age, 
but slender, with rich, red-gold hair, which was a 
great cross and affliction to her; for every one who 



lair 



WC'l 



. PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GEEW THEREIN 75 

poke of it did so in a half-pitying way, as if it were 
• deprecated at least, if not a thing of which to 
thoroughly ashamed. Such vigorous, rebellious 
, too, thronging back from her honest forehead in 
•iclily waved, thick locks, which no combing would 
nake straight and smooth. How she envied the sleek, 
patin sheen of the heads of the few girls she knew! 
Her eyes were clear and gray, her mouth large, with 
line and noble curves and even, white teeth, and her 
fre>h cheek was touched by many salutations of the 
. Xo one would ever have called her pretty, — the 
•d could not apply to her, — but there was an inde- 
scribable air of modesty and sweet intelligence about 
,her which at once attracted and charmed. 

The sunshine flickered through the leaves and 
touched her bright head as she sat with the little ones 
ill the porch. Inside, the mother's swift step went 
to and fro, about her work; by the open window, the 
i grandmother's knitting-needles clicked softly. Out- 
iSide, there were the sounds of bees and early crickets, 
a bird's note now and then, the call of a sandpiper, 
the song of a sparrow, or a cry far aloft in the blue 
from a wandering gull afloat on white wings, ever the 
low, far murmuring of the sea, and again and again 
the dull strokes of the hammer with which the father 
was mending his boat. As he moved about, it was 
evident he was lame; a long sickness in the winter 
had left him "crippled," as his neighbors said, with 



76 PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 

rheumatism. He had a fine, intelligent face, and had 
not always lived the life which poverty now forced 
upon him. His eyes were sad and anxious, he looked 
weather-beaten and worn, and his expression enlisted 
one's sympathies at once. He was fighting a hard 
fight to keep the wolf from his door; for his lameness 
made it extremely difficult to go fishing, like the rest 
of the folk living near. And now, since the attack 
of illness had exhausted every resource, very slender 
at the best, he was worn with anxiety for the coming 
winter's necessities. In summer it was well enough; 
they could make a shift to live from day to day; but 
when every force of nature should be marshaled against 
them in the bitter weather to come, how would they 
be able to endure it, and fight want away till another 
spring? He hardly dared to think of it. 

Peggy adored her father. She was his chief anc 
best joy in the world. When she saw him so full oi 
care, and heard him with the good and patient mothei 
discussing ways and means of getting bread, whei 
they dreamed not she was listening, she would have 
given worlds to help them. Her whole mind was full 
of the problem. What could she do? Leave them 
■!iid go away and try to earn something to help? But 
they Avould not listen to it; they could not live with- 
out her. She was their courage, their stay, their joy, 
and cheer, embodied. One winter's day, when her 
father was at his worst, and she felt as though despair 



PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 77 
vere settling down upon them, she remembered the 
^ronps of idle ^Dleasure-seekers she had seen wandering 
icross the sands in summer days, from the great hotel 
m the Point. "How wonderful must be their lives, 
with no anxieties like ours!" she thought. As the 
picture of these loiterers lingered in her imagination, 
she remembered the flowers they wore, the buttonhole 
bouquets of the men, and the nosegays of the maidens, 
a]id like a flash it came to Peggy what she might do. 
She might have a garden of her own, and sell flowers 
to these people at the hotel, —why not? She would 
try, at least. She told her mother and father of her 
thought; but they did not give it much weight at 
first. Still she was not daunted. With a resolute 
energy she bent all powers to compass it. First, she 
chose a piece of ground wherein some former occupant 
of the place had raised vegetables; it was partly sur- 
rounded by a ruinous wall to keep out stray cattle, 
and was close under the southern windows of their 
rickety little cottage. There was not much snow upon 
the ground, and every day she went to the beach and 
brought basket after basket of kelp, which she spread 
upon the ground, till by patience and perseverance 
she had covered it all over. It was not an easy task, 
and she had driftwood to bring daily from the beach, 
beside. But she knew how much more hope of suc- 
cess she would have if only she could spread the sea- 
weed and leave it to impart its nourishment to the 



78 PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 

sandy soil; and when it was done, she rejoiced in 
every rain that heljjed it to decay. The next thing 
was to get seeds for her garden. And when her father 
was better, so that she could be spared, she took long 
walks inland among their widely scattered neighbors 
to beg of each a few; for every house had its little 
flower-plot in summer; and the folk were kind and 
gave her all they could spare, — marigolds, larkspur, 
sweet peas and mignonette, sunflowers, nasturtiums, 
pansies, and coreopsis, — hardy, humble flowers, 
friendly and swift to grow. 

"I'm sure you're welcome to 'em, child," Aunt 
Sally, the blacksmith's wife, had said, as she put the 
packet into Peggy's hand; "and I hope ye '11 do all 
you're thinkin' to with 'em; but I calc'late ye have 
no idea what a job 'tis to take care on 'em," — a fact 
which Peggy did indeed discover in good time. "If 
ye '11 come up in the spring, I '11 give ye a root o' 
lad's love and lemon-balm; they smell very sweet an' 
pure, but they don't have any seeds to speak on," 
the old lady added. 

With what anxious joy Peggy Avatched for the first 
signs of spring! As soon as the snow was melted, she 
began to work about her garden-plot, every day a 
little, as long as she could be spared. With her 
strong young arms she brought stone by stone to the 
broken wall till she had made it whole again ; but it 
was a Avork of days and weeks. Then little by little 



ggy's garden, and what grew therein 79 
raked away tlie kelp. But the most difficult part 
the work was to come, to dig up the earth thor- 

l^W "could she do it?" she wondered. Here 

le an unexpected help. One day a neighbor with 
[tsail spread to the breeze, flying past at high tide, 
le so near that he made out what Peggy was trying 
io in her walled inclosure. 
*Wal, if that don't beat all!" he said to himself; 

there isn't Maxwell's red-haired gal tryin' to dig 
arden ! Her father 's laid up, — blest if she has n't 
ink!" That night, after supper, he walked down 
m "his place" and presented himself with a broad 
ide in his hand. "Why couldn't ye have asked 
ne on us to help yeT' he cried, with rough kind- 
3s; and straightway set himself to work with such 
vill that before dark it was all done, nor would he 
ten to her thanks as he went off. "I wish ye good 
;k with your garden!" he said, and so departed, 
lowed by Peggy's gratitude. 
There was yet much work to be done, but she could 

it all, she knew, and she toiled away with a light 
art, till she had raked out every stone and laid the 
ds all straight and even, and planted every seed; 
d then she paused to rest. By this time her father 
lis able to creep about a little, for the days were 
lowing long, and he looked at Peggy's handiwork 
ith tears in his eyes. He was too helpless to do 
uch to the little patch where every year he tried to 



80 PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 

raise a few vegetables, so Peggy put her young shouldei 
to that wheel also, and planted the beans and potatoes^ 
and gave them all the care she could. Meantime sb' 
rejoiced in the fresh sho'n:ers which fell to moisten thi 
hidden flower-seeds, and the warm sun which wouk 
coax the green leaves from the dark earth. Ever 
turn of weather had a new interest for her, every hoii< 
was bright with hope. "I declare," said the grand, 
mother, "it does me good just to see the child; she 
brighter than a summer mornin' ! " 

Indeed she was, so full of cheer, so modest, dutiful 
and patient, the kindest little heart that ever beat ii 
human breast, always ready to help and comfort wher 
ever comfort was needed! Hapj^y girl! Her gentk 
nature was a key that — all unconsciously to hersel 
— opened for her rich treasures of love that shouL 
not fail. 

One morning in the last week in May, small Will; 
came running in, quite breathless. "Peggy, come ou 
and look ! The seeds have comed up all in a row, lik 
little green so'diers!" And Peggy, with the baby o: 
her arm, followed the delighted little fellow to th 
garden. It was true, at last; there were rows of corn 
flowers and marigolds piercing the soil, the first an 
strongest of them all. And after them, day after day 
came the rest in a swift procession, till it seemed a 
if a soft green veil were laid over the earth. The 
began work indeed, for with the flowers had sprun 



PEGGY'S GAKDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 81 

311 thousand weeds more vigorous than they. But 
here is no saying truer than that "where there's a 
ill there 's a way," and Peggy, not being able to get 
iway from household cares during the day, would steal 
ae hours from sleep to accomplish her object. It was 
ght enough to see between three and four o'clock in 
ae morning, and many and many a pink dawn found 
er kneeling on the dewy ground (whereon she had 
pread a bit of carpet, for she had been taught never 
o trifle with her health), weeding industriously, till 
here was not a green thing except the flowers to be 
leen in the whole place. No sooner were the weeds 
ionquered, however, than they rose again, a second 
•oiony, — clover, quitch-grass, purslane, chickweed, 
pigweed, ragweed, and the rest, and when these had 
3een exterminated, then came transplanting, separating 
;he crowded plants, putting sticks and strings along 
he wall for the vines to climb, and a tiresome, daily 
iystem of watering to be carried on, without which 
,:he whole attempt would have been a failure. Fortu- 
lately there was a fine well near the house, and even 
ittle Willie could help, and father could stand and 
pump for them, and sometimes bring water, too ; and 
30 at last the reward of so much toil and care was 
[before them. The garden was truly a beautiful sight. 
bver the wall the nasturtiums ran like flame, and the 
[sweet peas climbed, just breaking into white and pink 
and purple and wonderful scarlet, and the flowering- 



82 PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 
bean clusters were almost as red as pomegranate blos- 
soms. There were ranks of corn-flowers in lovely, 
delicate rose and azure; there were marigolds and 
venidiums, whole solar systems of suns and stars; 
there were golden summer chrysanthemums and Core- 
opsis coronata superb to see, and phloxes that were 
like masses of rich velvet-scarlet, maroon and pink and 
crimson. There were others to come, asters and zin- 
nias and sunflowers later; but the mignonette had 
begun, and spikes of larkspur — burning, brilliant 
blue — set off the yellow and fire colors, and the Cali- 
fornia poppies — cups of flaming gold — and the pied, 
pansies, and crimson flax, and pink mallows! Well 
might the whole family wonder and rejoice over 
Peggy's garden, and all the neighbors make pilgrimages 
to see it! 

And now at last it was time for the great attempt, 
and she Avas trying to summon all her courage to take 
on the morrow her first flowers to the hotel, for sale. 
A kind of stage fright came over the poor child at this 
eleventh hour. After all her brave toil, it would 
seem a simple thing to take her blossoms and pace 
quietly the long piazzas where wealth and beauty and 
idleness would give her the daily bread for herself and 
her dear ones in exchange. But the shy girl felt as 
if it were an absolute impossibility. Suddenly all her 
courage ebbed and left her in deep despondency. She 
sat by the little window in the grandmother's old 



PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 83 

(.air; the wind that wandered through the beautiful 
Immer twilight brought her the delicate sweet odors 
bm her garden ; their sweetness made her heart 
ilk. She turned from the open casement. In the 
(rner, by a dim little lamp, her mother was mending 
j.e worn sleeves of her father's coat. Peggy looked 
I her. How pale and patient she was ! The cradle 
iood near, and her foot sought the rocker and stirred 
i gently each time the baby nestled uneasily ; in the 
mchair near, her father had fallen asleep, his fine 
ithetic face faintly touched by the feeble light. His 
lin hand lay on the arm of the chair. How thin it 
as, how sad his sleeping face! Not one of them 
id quite all they needed to eat on that day; and 
hat for to-morrow 1 Then a feeling of shame at her 
^n cowardice came to Peggy's rescue. What were 
m thousand indifferent eyes, what if everybody should 
,ugh at her red hair and mean apparel; if they only 
ould buy her flowers, she would not care, — no, she 
■ould not f She would be deaf, dumb, and blind to 
^erything except her purpose. She left the window 
nd came and stood beside her mother's chair. "Mo- 
ler, dear, let me finish it for you," she said, trying 
D take the work out of her hands. But her mother 
lid, "No, Peggy, darling, don't mind, I've nearly 
nished. You'd better go to bed soon, for you'll 
ave to be up very early, you know; " and she put her 
rm around her girl's slender figure and drew her close, 



84 PEGGY'S GAEDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 

and laid her tired head against the brave little hearl 
that was beating fast with its struggles and hopes anc 
fears. Her father opened his eyes upon the two, -- 
all unconscious of his gaze. No one knew better thai 
he what was passing in his daughter's mind. But Ik 
had no word with which to comfort her; he coulc 
only cling to her as her mother was doing, and bless' 
her with all his soul, as she came to give him a good- 
night kiss. 

She climbed to her little nest under the eaves anc 
leaned out to look once more at the summer nightj 
The calm sea mirrored every twinkling star. Her< 
and there a light gleamed from some fishing-schoone: 
anchored and rocking almost imperceptibly on thd 
softly heaving tide. Afar on its lonely promontory 
stood the dark mass of the great hotel, ablaze an( 
quivering with electric lights, like a living jewel Oi 
many facets. So great a hope, so great a fear for he:i 
trembled in its glitter and gleam. She was glad shd 
could not hear the band that she knew must be play 
ing for the gay, whirling dancers in the great hall. 
"I wonder if they all are Avearing flowers from th( 
city," she thought, "roses and delicate things so difl'er- 
ent from mine. I wonder if they will want mim' 
when they see them ! Perhaps, perhaps ! " she sighed. 

Little Willy Avas asleep in the low cot; he halj 
woke as she laid her head on the pillow, and possessed 
himself of her arm, hugging it again with both his. 



.^eggy's garden, and what grew therein 85 
)ear Peggy," he said, half asleep, "dear, dear, 



t(fr 



The mornmg broke calm and clear. It was not 
liY o'clock when she was stealing out in the freshen- 
jig dawn to her garden-plot. The sky was one great 
jish of pink, and at the horizon crimson and gold 
[lere the sun approached from the other side, and all 
•.e sea reflected the sky. 

"Oh!" thought she, "the whole world looks like a 
,se ! " as she pushed the gate and entered the path. 
:ow the birds were singing! "Oh, song sparrow," 
le cried to the little brown creature that sat on the 
lall and poured forth such a strain of joy that it 
ienied to fill the air with cheer, "are you really so 
lad as that 1 I'd like to change places with you ! " 
: She cut the flowers with swift and dexterous hands, 
tid filled her basket heaping full. And now the sun 
ad risen in still magnificence, and touched Avith 
olden finger the sails of small fishing-craft, creeping 
ut to the day's work, and the snowy wings of lazy 
nils afloat overhead in the perfect blue, and made the 
,right hair of our Peggy as glorious as the marigolds 
he was tying into bunches as she sat on the little 
tcp with her basket and a spool of thread. Some 
Lim artistic sense led her to mass each color separately. 
Ul the scarlet sweet peas she put together. So with 
he pink and the purple and the white ; so with the 
■ed poppies, to which she added a few delicate grasses, 



86 PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 

and with the mignonette; but with the pale-yellow 
summer chrysanthemums she put a few orange mari 
golds, and made of their radiant disks a splendi.i 
conflagration of color. There were small and larg 
bunches to be tied, and buttonhole bouquets; ami 
when all were done, she put them into a wooden tul 
with a few inches of water, and left it in the cool dar] 
of the cellar till she should be ready to take then 
away. But the slender breakfast was to be helped oi 
and the family started for the day, before she coul( 
leave them. The baby, usually so good and quiet 
would fret ; it seemed to be out of sorts. 

"Poor little girl," Peggy said to herself, "you ard 
hungry ; that is the trouble, I know, for you are th( 
best little sister in the world. " 

The grandmother was full of aches and ]:>ains thiii 
morning, but she said, "I'll keep the baby, Peggy^' 
dear; you go and get ready before the sun grows sc 
hot that you '11 suffer going across the sands. Here 's 
something to wear on your head, child, " and she drew 
out of her pocket a nicely folded blue handkerchief; 
"it's better than nothing," she said, "though it's 
faded and old enough." Poor Peggy! She had no 
hat at all; the handkerchief was, as grandmother said, 
better than nothing, — that was all. 

"Go, now, and walk very slowly, dear," her mother 
said. She brought a long and broad shallow basket, 
into which they put the flowers, and over all laid 



PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 87 

iolitly some newspapers, which were tucked carefully 
n around the edges, to save her treasures from wind 
md sun. She had but her one gown to wear, a dull, 
iark-blue cotton print, made in the simplest fashion, 
svith neither frill nor furbelow. She had no time 
[or such, nor means if she had had time. Her thick, 
bright locks were plaited into one long, rich braid 
with the ends left loose, for she had not even a bit of 
dbbon wherewith to tie it. She knotted the blue 
Ikerchief under her chin, kissed them all as if she were 
bidding the family farewell for a month, and set off 
with her basket on her arm. Willy cried to go too, 
but it was too far for his little feet to trudge, or she 
jwould gladly have taken him. They watched her 
from the door till her figure lessened to a mere speck 
on the sand. How would she return to them, — with 
failure or success ? They hardly dared to think ! 

Meantime, the little maid kept courageously on her 
way. The sun was high and hot, but a breath of 
coolness came from the waves which spilled themselves 
in long breakers of lazy brine along the edge of the 
sand. But she hardly noticed the heat, or the cool, 
-whispering water; her eyes were fixed on the great 
building before her, which began to grow more distinct 
every moment. Windows, doors, chimneys, roofs, 
gables, columns, gradually disentangled themselves; 
J and she saw knots of people here and there, and a 
crowd scattered on the long piazza; and before the 



88 PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 

house on the level green, youths and maidens, gaylji 
clad, were playing tennis, careless of the sun. Lik( 
a soldier marching to battle, Peggy walked past these,' 
straight up to one of the tliree broad flights of steps, 
— the one at the left-hand entrance. She dared nol 
look about her, for she felt many eyes upon her as she 
set her basket down on the lower step and took ofi 
the protecting newspapers, folding them for future 
use. She slipped the grandmother's old kerchief off) 
her head, she was so warm, and began to climb the; 
stairs slowly and with sinking heart. She stood still' 
at last, with down-dropped eyes and blushing cheeks, 
feeling all the dreaded eyes upon her, and wishing sh©' 
were a plover, to fly home by the breakers' edge.^ 
Suddenly a child's voice at her side said, "Oh, loo¥ 
at the pretty flowers, mamma! I want some; please 
buy some for me ! " and a lovely lady in black spokei 
to her gently. Peggy started like a frightened sand- 
piper, though the lady only said, "How lovely your 
flowers are, my dear! May I have some? What is 
the price of this bunch of sweet peas? " and she drewi 
a mass of fragrant scarlet flowers out of the basket, 
while the little girl who had begged stretched out both 
hands for them. 

"Wait a minute, Minnie. How much are they?" 
she asked of Peggy. 

"Twenty-five cents," Peggy ventured in answer; 
and the lady drew the coin from her purse and laid it 



i 



Ipeggy's garden, and what grew therein 89 

i Peggy's happy palm. The contact seemed to give 
jr new life, and her eyes grew moist with joy. She 
tt a swift glance out over the hot coast-line to where 
ie knew her poor little home lay, a mere speck in the 
melting distance, but oh, how dear it seemed! And 
:;r hope grew strong and her fears less, and she held 
■je precious piece of silver tight, lest it should take 
ungs and fly away from her. 

- But now the contents of Peggy's basket began to 
,sappear with surprising rapidity, faster and faster, 
11 more than half her nosegays were sold, and she 
as quite breathless with joy. Nothing had ever 
,oked so beautiful to her as the coins of silver she 
eld in her hand, which soon grew too small to hold 
lem all! They meant bread for her hungry dear 
lies; they meant joy for that little home saddened by 
overty. She cared no more what people said, what 
hey thought; she was sure of success for to-day; she 
.eld already help for to-morrow in her delighted hands. 
"May I have this pansy for my buttonhole T' said 
. fine deep voice at her ear. She started, and turned 
ud gave the speaker the last little bunch she had left. 
Ie put the flowers in their place, and took from the 
jasket two bunches of white sweet peas and slipped 
he money into her hand. 

"Tell me," he said very gently, "who taught you 
;o put the colors in masses like these? Why do you 
ioit?" 



90 PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 
"I don't know," she answered; "they are prettj 

so," and she shyly proceeded to rearrange the nosega; 

she had left. 

"Why do you put grass with the poppies?" ] 

asked. "Did any one tell you to do it? " 

"No," she said; "but I always think they beloi. 

together. " 

"Yes, they do," he said; "but who told you so?« 

"No one ; they told me, themselves," she an 
swered, smiling a little. 

"Fortunate child!" he said; "they don't tell ever 
one, though it 's an open secret." 

He was moving away, witli his hands full of swef 
peas, when he seemed to remember something, am 
came back. 

"Will you come with me," he said, "and brinp 
your basket to a lady who is not strong enough U 
come so far down the piazza ? " 

Peggy followed silently, and in a sheltered corner.i 
shaded carefully from the sun, she found one of thci' 
loveliest sights she had ever seen. A lady, sixt} 
years old, perhaps, was lying back in a reclining chair, 
and about her several people sat quietly chatting. 
The lady's face was as fair as lilies, with eyes cleai 
and undimmed by her sixty years. Her smile was 
sweeter than any smile Peggy had ever seen. Her 
hair was like silvered snow over her calm forehead, 
and she wore above this shining hair a little cap of 



1 PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 91 
lace as delicate as if woven of cobwebs and hoar-frost, 
J^rith a bit of white satin ribbon like a moonbeam 
lolded on the top. 

I " She is beautiful as my sweet peas," thought Peggy, 
IS Mr. Willard put the flowers into her lovely hands; 
I'they just suit her." 

"I've brought you some posies, Mrs. Burton, as 
you see," said her friend; "and here is the little girl 
^ho knows all about them." 

j "Oh, how beautiful!" cried Mrs. Burton, in a de- 
tlightful, sympathetic voice; "a thousand thanks! 
^And," turning to Peggy, "you brought them, my 
[dear? Come nearer and let me see what else you 
I have. Why, these are wonderful! Look at them, 
'my daughter," she said to a sweet young girl who sat 
close beside her. "Why, Nelly, did you ever see 
anything like them? What color, what Oriental 
splendor! Where did you get them? tell me, my 
child! I must have them all, every one;, let me see, 
here are eight bouquets, five large and three smaller; 
twenty-five cents, did you say? Here it is; just two 
dollars. What is it, —these small bunches only ten? 
, Oh, never mind, I'm sure they're worth quite as 
^Imuch as the large ones. There, Nelly dear, that's 
for you, and this for you, and you, and you," she 
said, laughing delightfully, as she gave one to each 
person about her. "There, now, we all are happy, 
: are n't we ? And next, I wish to know all about these 



92 PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 

extraordinary flowers; sit down here, my dear, and 
tell me." 

Peggy did as she was bid, though she longed to fly 
home, since her task was done for that day, but the. 
lady had been so kind she could not refuse; indeed, 
no one could ever refuse that lady anything! When, 
by gentle questioning, she had won from Peggy alll 
her story, she laid her hand on the little girl's bright 
hair with a beautiful gesture of aff'ectionate protection; 
but she made no comment, she asked only, ''Are youi 
coming to-morrow, my dear, to bring some morec 
flowers? Don't fail, for we all want them." 

With joy Peggy answered, "Yes, indeed, I will 
come ! " 

"Kemember, I wish a fresh bouquet every morning, 
and one for Nelly, too. Now, I know you 're longiiii,^ 
to get back; you shall go;" and Peggy took up her 
empty basket, her eyes bright with tears of delight. 

"You dear child," said the sweet young lady whom 
her mother called Nelly, "did you wear no hat all 
that long way across the hot sand ? " 

"No," answered Peggy; "I didn't mind, I had my 
grandmother's handkerchief; it did very well," and 
she took it out of her pocket to tie again over her 
bright hair. 

The younger lady reached behind her mother's chair 
and took a straw hat from where it hung by its strings, 
and quietly placed it on Peggy's head. It was a 



PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 93 
)roacl-brimmed hat of beautiful braided white straw; 
limply trimmed with some soft, white mull, light as 
-he foam of the sea. The child could scarcely believe 
■ler ears when the lady said, "There, dear, it's for 
l^ou. Don't come out in the sun without it again ! " 
md kissed her cheek. "Now, good-by. Don't say 
X word. Kun home. " 

j "Thank you, oh, thank you!" cried Peggy. 
1 Eun home 1 She did not run, she flew ! She did 
not look behind her, she thought of nothing but the 
joy she was taking to those anxious hearts who were 
expecting her. As her swift steps covered the distance 
between her and that cottage of her love, she seemed 
to tread on air; she forgot she was hungry and hot 
and tired ; she could not stop a moment to rest ; while 
under the shade of the pretty hat her cheeks burned 
and eyes glistened with a joy too great to be told. 
i Meantime, the watchers in the cottage counted the 
i moments of her absence ; and when at last her slight 
figure became visible, yet a long, long way off, little 
Willy rushed forth to meet her. 

"Stop, Willy, wait for me," his father cried, mov- 
ing slowly down the steps. "Take hold of my hand, 
Willy; we'll go together." But she came so fast 
that the two slow walkers had gone only a short way 
before she caught up to them, quite breathless, and 
flung her arms round her father's neck, and cried, 
"Oh, father, I sold them all!" throwing her empty 



94 PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GEEW THEREIN 
basket as far as she could, till it rolled over and over 
on the sand, while she hugged him and kissed him 
again and again. And what a story she had to tell 
Avhen in a few minutes they were all together again 
in the humble little room, and she spread out all her 
precious earnings on the table before them. There 
were eight dollars in silver pieces, — it was incredible! 
What rejoicing, what happiness ! 

"Oh, mother!" cried Peggy, suddenly growing quite 
white, "I 'm so hungry! Is there anything to eat? " 

"My dear, my dear! Here is your bowl of por- 
ridge, the last oatmeal we have in the house. I saved 
it for you; " and she set it before the tired girl; for it 
was quite the middle of the afternoon, many liours 
since the scant breakfast. Well might she be hungry 
with all she had gone through ! 

"But, mother dear, as soon as I rest a little, I'll 
go up to the village for what we need. " 

"No, indeed, my darling, I will go; you mind the 
baby and rest all you can. But where did you get 
the beautiful hat? " And Peggy told, and there were 
smiles and tears, and kisses and congratulations afresh. 
"Here 's your kerchief all safe, grandmother dear," 
she said, taking it carefully out of her pocket. 

"Oh, Peggy, you're a blessing to us!" the old 
woman sighed; "I always said you were not born on 
Sunday for nothing. And you are going with your 
flowers again to the hotel, to-morrow ? " 



i'EGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 95 

:'Yes, going again to-morrow," Peggy cried, all lier 
trors blown to the winds. 

:"My Margaret, my little Peggy, my brave girl!" 
i: father said, with tender pride. 

The group she had left at the hotel had watched 
:f depart with no common interest. 

"What a really beautiful creature!" Mr. Willard 
Jd said when she was out of hearing. 

"Yes, and what a beautiful soul! " cried the enthu- 
Ltic old lady. "Now, I am going to be that child's 
f'ry godmother. That is settled! You shall see! 
he shall have everything she needs. She shall have 
^' her people taken care of and put in the way of 
Uping themselves, and she shall not be separated 
j3m them, for that would break her heart; but she 
tall have an education, and all her gifts and graces 
.all be cultivated for her own joy and the joy of all 

ho come in contact with her ! " 
"I told her she was a fortunate child," said Mr. 

miard, smiling, "but I hardly knew how fortunate; 
hi I think you are more fortunate in having the 

Dwer to do these beautiful things." 

: "Why, what is the use of money but for such 
I lings 1. "' she answered. " Of what good is my money 
I ) me if I cannot use it to make people better and 

' lappier 1 " 

f And so she did all that she promised herself she 

lirould do for Peggy and Peggy's family. She allowed 



96 PEGGY'S GARDEN, AND WHAT GREW THEREIN 

her to go ou selling the flowers while they lasted, watcl 
ing her daily, growing to love her more and more, ai 
to admire and resjDect her, as did all who came m 
her. Before the garden was exhausted, Peggy L 
made three hundred dollars for her father, — a fortiii 
it seemed to them all! No more fears for the Avini 
now! At home they fairly worshiped her, and sli 
was so happy that she no longer envied the son 
sparrow as it sang on the garden wall, the only Lir^ 
that stays to sing the summer through. "I 'm just a 
glad as you are," she said, as she watched it am 
listened to its sweet w^arble; and it turned its prett' 
head and looked at her with bright black eyes, a 
much as to say, "I know it, merry comrade, and yoi 
deserve it, too ! " 

And this is what grew in Peggy's garden. Sh( 
planted more than the flowers. She sowed seeds o 
patience and meekness and faithfulness, courage anc 
hope and love, — and glorious was the blossoming 
thereof. 



ALMOST A TRAGEDY 

Christine! May we come in and see you to- 
iight, Christine r' The children, peeping in at the 
itchen door, pushed it wide and danced over the 
iireshold, delighted at the smile which greeted them. 
■ There were three of them, Sylvia Hastings and her 
'ttle brother Charlie, and Archie, a boy of fourteen, 
[ home for the winter holidays. Dearly they loved 
) visit Christine in her bright kitchen, and no won- 
er, for both the place and its occupant were most 
heerful, to say nothing of the charms of Minzie, the 
leek Maltese cat that lay basking on the mat in the 
'ed glow of the fire, and the absurd old gray parrot 
hat sat muffled up in his feathers on a perch in the 
orner of the room. It was early dusk of the winter 
[ay, sharp and cold; a thin, crisp layer of snow cov- 
ired the ground without, and made the warmth and 
)rightness within more delightful. And as for Chris- 
ine, the Norwegian maid who kept the house, she 
vas as refreshing as morning sunshine, with her rosy 
!;heeks and milk-white skin, and rich hair piled in a 
Deautiful red-gold heap at the top of her head. The 
jhildren adored her, and her employers blessed the land 



9^ ALMOST A TRAGEDY 

of Norway for having produced anything so charm] 
and so satisfactory. 

"Now, what are you doing, Christine?" as]< 
Sylvia, as they stood by the table and peered int 
dull, red earthen dish filled with water, in which 1 
potatoes peeled as smooth as ivory. "What are the 
things? Potatoes? Aren't they pretty, Archi 
They look just like ivory ! " 

"Take me up and show me!" cried little Charlj 
and Archie lifted him so that he could peep, to 
Christine laid a clean towel on the table, spread t] 
potatoes on it, rolled them about in it till they we 
quite dry, then put them into a shallow tin pan whic 
she had buttered, and shook them till they all shoi 
with a thin coat of butter. 

"What are they for? " asked Sylvia. 
"To bake for your supper, Miqs Sylvia," answerc 
Christine. 

"But why do you butter them?" 
"Oh, so they may bake a lovely light brown, an. 
the skin you will not have to take off at all!" an 
swered she. 

"Oh, yes, I know," said Sylvia, "they are s( 
good ! *' and while Christie went on with her prepara 
tions for supper, all three sat themselves down on th( 
neat braided mat beside Minzie, the sleepy, comfortabk 
cat. She stretched her long length out slowly, and 
really seemed to smile at the children, as she lay in 



ALMOST A TRAGEDY 99 

fe ruddy firelight with her eyes half shut, lazily 
isponding to their caresses. She put out her paw, 
3 sharp claws softly sheathed, and with a deprecat- 
ig gesture gently patted their hands, as if she were 
)xing her pet kitten's ears. 

I "Pretty Minzie!" Archie said; "you are so good- 
Wred, and you know so much ! "' 

"Good-evening, good-evening! Won't you take a 
ialk?" cried a harsh voice from the corner. 
I "It's Polly!" cried Sylvia. "Oh, you ridiculous 
id bird ! How you startled me ! " 
^ "What have you got in your pocket?" Polly con- 

tiued, turning her head this way and that, and eying 
8 children askance. 
I "Poor Polly! Not a thing!" said Sylvia. "I 
vish. I had thought to save some nuts for you." 
i "What does Polly want? What does Polly want! " 
jiied the bird, and then began to utter sounds no lan- 
Tuage can describe; sounds which more nearly resem- 
bled the racket of a watchman's rattle gone distracted 
than anything else I can think of. 
I Minzie raised her head and looked toward the corner 
Where Polly was perched, and then settled comfortably 
back again, blinking her green eyes. 
I "Wise kitty!" said Archie. 

I "Indeed she is wise," said Sylvia. "What do you 
think she did, Archie ? When we fed the birds under 
the dining-room window, she hid in the hedge and 
LofC. 



100 ALMOST A TRAGEDY 

pounced on a bird every day, till mamma at last gav 

up feeding them at all, for it seemed cruel to lea 

them into a trap like that. Well, what does Minzi 

do then but steal a piece of bread from the kitche-i 

and carry it out on the snow, and there bite it an. 

crumble it herself, and scratch and scatter the crumbi 

all about. Then she hid in the hedge, the sly thingi 

and watched. Down came the birds, — poor littLi 

hungry dears, and Minzie sprang and caught one, ana 

off she went with him to eat him up behind a bush 

Oh, you naughty, naughty cat!" continued Sylvia/, 

lifting her finger and shaking her head at the comforts 

able creature, who only blinked in supreme indiffep 

ence and content. "I wonder at you ! How can you bd 

so cruel ? " j 

"But she is n't naughty, Syl," said Archie. "Catf | 

were made to catch birds, don't you know it? " ; 

"Well, /wouldn't pounce on poor little birds andij 

eat them, if I were a cat, " cried Sylvia. i 

"And I wouldn't eat 'ittle birds," said Charlie,ii 

making up a virtuous, wee mouth, which Sylvia stooped 

to kiss at once, it was so irresistible. 

"But you do eat them, Syl," Archie said. "You 

are just as bad as Minzie." Sylvia turned to him a 

shocked little face. "What do you mean, Archie?"] 

she said. I 

"Why, Syl dear, didn't I see twelve small birds 

served up on a dish yesterday at dinner, and did n't 



ALMOST A TRAGEDY 101 

pu eat one, all but his bones ? And all their claws 
jere curled up so pitifully above them, too ! " 
! "Oh, but, Archie, that's something quite different! 
^hose birds were bought at the butcher's, you know." 
I "Never mind," interrupted Archie; "it is very 
|early the same thing. You were made to eat some 
inds of birds as well as kitty, so don't you blame her 
br doing what you do yourself. Don't you remember 
^hen papa was reading to mamma last night in a book 
ailed 'Emerson's Essays,' how astonished mamma 
,^as when he read this, ' Only the butcher stands be- 
ween us and the tiger,' or something like that, and 
iiow they talked about it afterward? The cat is a 
iittle tiger, — she belongs to the same family. " 

"Yes, I heard them talking," said Sylvia, "but I 
■lid n't understand." 

"Well, never mind, dear," her brother answered; 
I'l don't think it is very easy to understand. We 
leed n't trouble ourselves about it. Only, don't you 
blame poor Minzie for doing what she was made to 
do." Sylvia shook her head thoughtfully ; she found 
it a very hard riddle to read. Most of us do. 

" Ship ahoy ! " cried a harsh voice from the corner. 
" Good-morning, dear ! How do you do? What have 
you got in your pocket ? Polly wants a cracker ! Good 
gracious ! Wish you happy New Year ! " 

They all broke into laughter, Christine's merry 
voice mingling in the chorus. Minzie rose from the 



102 ALMOST A TRAGEDY 

mat, stretched herself, slowly crossed the room to 
where Polly sat chattering on her perch, and began to; 
play with the chain by which the bird was fastened,( 
giving the loop a push with her paw where it hungi 
down, striking it every time it swung within reach/ 
The parrot watched her meanwhile with the greatest 
interest. "Miaw!" cried Polly suddenly. Minziei 
stopped and looked up. "Ha, ha, ha!" shouted thei 
bird, as much as to say, "Did you think it was an-i 
other cat?" and forthwith began to scream afresh, 
crowing like a cock, barking like a dog, imitating thet; 
creaking of a door, and then suddenly going into a< 
frenzy of sneezing and coughing and snuffling like a : 

person in the most desperate stages of influenza. 

Minzie sat still, looking up at the bird, as if shei 

enjoyed the performance; and as for the children, theyj 

laughed till they were tired. ] 

"Truly, they are the best of friends, the two," said 

Christie. "I don't know what one would do without! 

the other; they play with each other by the hour 

together. " 

''Come, Sylvia, bring Cliarlie upstairs; it is time," 

called mamma's voice; and away the children skipped. 
Christie went to and fro about her work, — the 

pleasantest picture imaginable. "I think I'll set my 

bread to rising before supper," she said to herself; 

" then I shall have more time to write my letter home 

this evening." So she worked fast and busily, and 



ALMOST A TRAGEDY 103 

Hien the bread was made, she put it in a large wooden 
llwl and covered it up with a nice white towel, and 
1ft it to rise on the dresser. The cat and the parrot 
ij^tched all these operations with an interest that 
laused her, — it was so human. 

\ After supper, when she had done all her work and 
jrerything was in order for the night, she bade good- 
rening to Minzie and Polly, and went upstairs to 
kite her weekly letter to her dear, far-off Norway. 
ler room was very warm and comfortable, and as 
:esh and tidy as herself. She set her lamp down on 
he table, took out her little portfolio from the drawer, 
tnd began to write. She wrote slowly, and had been 
Uy about an hour when she heard a loud, distressed 
.' Miaw ! " outside her door. She looked up. " Miaw ! 
kiaw! Miaw!" sounded quickly and anxiously from 
:y[inzie. Evidently something unusual was the mat- 
ter. She had never heard so anxious a cry from that 
bomfortable cat before. 

I "Why, what is it?" she cried, as she rose and 
[opened the door. Minzie sprang in, apparently greatly 
"excited, with her tail upright and curling at the top. 
She ran round and round Christie, rubbing herself 
[against the girl's ankles, and looking up into her i^ 
with a most curious expression of solicitude and agita- 
tion. "What is the matter? What is the trouble, 
Minzie?" Christie kept asking, as if the poor dumb 
creature could explain her distress in words. But 



104 ALMOST A TRAGEDY 

Minzie only "miawed" more distractedly than before 
she went toward the door, looking back at Christie 
then ran to her again, took hold of her apron wit! 
her teeth, and tried to drag her toward the door 
"You want me to go downstairs? " 

The cat frisked before her, turning to see if sIk 
were following; then, as if satisfied, she fled lightl} 
and swiftly down the stair and into the kitchen, 
Christie coming after, bearing the lamp in her hand. 
When she reached the kitchen door she heard a cry 
from the parrot. 

"Come, come, come!" cried Polly. "Good gra- 
cious! Won't you take a walk? " 

The voice did not proceed from the bird's accus- 
tomed corner, and looking about, the first thing 
Christie saw was the linen towel she had spread over 
the bread, on the floor, and Minzie standing up on her' 
hind paws with her two white-mittened fore-feet at 
the edge of the table, craning her head forward and; 
crying piteously. There, in the middle of the larger 
pan of soft dough, sat Polly, sunk to her shoulders in 
the sticky mass, only her neck and head with its huge 
black beak and glassy yellow eyes, to be seen. She 
had pulled the towel off the bread, and, in process of 
investigating it, had become fastened in the thick paste, 
sinking deeper and deeper till she was in danger of 
disappearing altogether. 

" Ship ahoy ! " cried Polly. " Come ! Poor Polly ! 
What does Polly want ? " 



ALMOST A TKAGEDY 105 

\ Christine burst into laughter, and, greatly to Min- 
ie's distress, lost time in going to call Sylvia and 
Vrchie before rescuing the prisoner from her perilous 

f)osition. 

! " Oh dear !" cried Sylvia. "How dreadful! What 

^hall we do, Archie ? " 

I Archie, with shouts of merriment, helped Christie 
disengage the poor bird, and they set her into a basin 
tof warm water to soak. She was perfectly quiet and 
let them do as they pleased with her, only ejaculating 
now and then, "Good gracious! What does Polly 
iwant? Oh, my! Won't you take a walk T' with other 
I irrelevant remarks, which sent her deliverers off into 
ffresh peals of laughter. 

"It's all very well to laugh," said Christine, "and 
nobody could help it; but if it had not been for Min- 
zie, poor Polly would have been smothered in the 
dough, and that would have been ' Good gracious! ' I 
think!" Then she told the children how Minzie had 
called her, and insisted on her coming downstairs. 
They petted the cat and gave her no end of praise, but 
"Oh, you naughty bird!" cried Syl to the parrot. 
"Now you see what it is to meddle with things that 
don't concern you! Just think of it! All Christie's 
nice bread must go to feed the chickens, and you came 
near losing your life! Don't you ever meddle again, 
Polly ; do you hear 1 " 

Polly looked too comical. They had washed her as 



106 ALMOST A TRAGEDY 

well as they could, and tried to dry her, and had set 
her on her perch as near as they dared to the fire. 
She was so bedraggled and forlorn, with her wet, 
ruffled feathers, and her lean, shivering body ! Minzie 
sat and looked up at her with sympathetic eyes. 

" Bless my soul ! What does Polly want ? " chat- 
tered the poor bird. 

"I should think you wanted to be punished, if you 
weren't punished enough already," laughed Christie, 
as she fastened the chain more securely about the 
parrot's leg. 

Then she proceeded to make a fresh bowlful of 
bread in place of that which had nearly made an end 
of poor Polly; and presently left the two occupants of 
the kitchen to take care of each other till morning. 



THE SANDPIPEE'S NEST 

' It was such a pretty nest, and in such a pretty 
:.lace, that I must tell you about it. 

One lovely afternoon in May I had been wandering 
ip and down, through rocky gorges, by little swampy 
i)its of ground, and on the tops of windy headlands, 
looking for flowers, and had found many: large blue 
violets, the like of which you never saw; white vio- 
.ets, too, creamy and fragrant; gentle little houstonias; 
^ay and dancing erythroniums ; and wind flowers deli- 
sately tinted, blue, straw-color, pink, and purple. I 
never found such in the mainland valleys. The salt 
air of the sea deepens the colors of all flowers. I 
stopped by a swamp which the recent rains had filled 
and turned into a little lake. Light green iris-leaves 
cut the water like sharp and slender swords, and, in 
the low sunshine that streamed across, threw long 
shadows over the shining surface. Some blackbirds 
were calling sweetly in a clump of bushes, and song 
sparrows sung as if they had but one hour in which 
to crowd the whole rapture of the spring. As I 
pressed through the budding bayberry bushes to reach 



108 THE sandpiper's NEST 

some milk-white sprays of shadbush which grew by 
the water side, I startled three curlews. They flew 
away, trailing their long legs, and whistling fine andii 
clear. I stood still to watch them out of sight. How 
full the air was of pleasant sounds ! The very waves 
made a glad noise about the rocks, and the whole sea 
seemed to roar afar off, as if half asleep and murmuring 
in a kind of gentle dream. The flock of sheep was: 
scattered here and there, all washed as white as snow^ 
by the plenteous rains, and nibbling the new grass; 
eagerly; and from near and far came the tender andi 
plaintive cries of the young lambs. 

Going on again, I came to the edge of a little beach, , 
and presently I Avas startled by a sound of such terror i 
and distress that it went to my heart at once. In a 
moment a poor little sandpiper emerged from the 
bushes, dragging itself along in such a way that, had 
you seen it, you would have believed that every bone 
in its body had been broken. Such a dilapidated bird ! 
Its wings drooped, and its legs hung as if almost life- 
less. It uttered continually a shrill cry of pain, and 
kept just out of the reach of my hand, fluttering 
hither and thither as if sore wounded and weary. At 
first I was amazed, and cried out, "Why, friend and 
gossip ! what is the matter ? " and then stood watching 
it in mute dismay. Suddenly it flashed across me 
that this was only my sandpiper's way of concealing 



I 



THE sandpiper's NEST 109 

rom me a nest; and I remembered reading about this 
ittle trick of hers in a book of Natural History. The 
Sbject was to make me follow her by pretending she 
;ould not fly, and so lead me away from her treasure. 
3o I stood perfectly still, lest I should tread on the 
precious habitation, and quietly observed my deceitful 
little friend. Her apparently desperate and hopeless 
condition grew so comical when I reflected that it was 
'only affectation, that I could not help laughing loud 
land long. "Dear gossip," I called to her, "pray 
^don't give yourself so much unnecessary trouble ! You 
might know I wouldn't hurt you or your nest for the 
world, you most absurd of birds! " As if she under- 
stood me, and as if she could not brook being ridi- 
'culed, up she rose at once, strong and graceful, and 
flew off with a full, round, clear note, delicious to 
hear. 

Then I cautiously looked for the nest, and found it 
quite close to my feet, near the stem of a stunted bay- 
berry bush. Mrs. Sandpiper had only drawn together 
a few bayberry leaves, brown and glossy, a little pale 
green lichen, and a twig or two, and that was a pretty 
enough house for her. Four eggs about as large as 
robins' were within, all laid evenly with the small 
ends together, as is the tidy fashion of the Sandpiper 
family. No wonder I did not see them; for they 
were pale green like the lichen, with brown spots the 



110 THE sandpiper's NEST 

color of the leaves and twigs, and they seemed a part 
of the ground, with its confusion of soft neutral tints. 
I could not admire them enough, but, to relieve my 
little friend's anxiety, I came very soon away, and as 
I came I marveled much that so very small a head 
should contain such an amount of cunning. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



THE SANDPIPER 



Across the narrow beach we flit, 

One little sandpiper and I; 
And fast I gather, bit by bit. 

The scattered driftwood bleached and dry. 
The wild waves reach their hands for it. 

The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, 
As up and down the beach we flit, — 

One little sandpiper and I. 

Above our heads the sullen clouds 

Scud black and swift across the sky ; 
Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds 

Stand out the white light-houses high. 
Almost as far as eye can reach 

I see the close-reefed vessels fly, 
As fast we flit along the beach, — 

One little sandpiper and I. 

I watch him as he skims along 

Uttering his sweet and mournful cry ; 



114 SPRING I 

He starts not at my fitful song, 

Or flash of fluttering drapery. 
He has no thought of any wrong; 

He scans me with a fearless eye. 
Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong, 

The little sandpiper and I. 

Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night 

When the loosed storm breaks furiously ? 
My driftwood fire will burn so bright! 

To what warm shelter canst thou fly 1 
I do not fear for thee, though wroth 

The tempest rushes through the sky: 
For are we not God's children both, 

Thou, little sandpiper, and I ? 

SPKING 

The alder by the river 

Shakes out her powdery curls; 

The willow buds in silver 
For little boys and girls. 

The little birds fly over 

And oh, how sweet they sing! 

To tell the happy children 
That once again 't is spring. 



THE BURGOMASTER GULL 115 

The gay green grass comes creeping 

So soft beneath their feet; 
The frogs begin to ripple 

A music clear and sweet. 

And buttercups are coming, 

And scarlet columbine, 
And in the sunny meadows 

The dandelions shine. 

And just as many daisies 

As their soft hands can hold 
The little ones may gather, 

All fair in white and gold. 

Here blows the warm red clover, 

There peeps the violet blue; 
O happy little children ! 

God made them all for you. 



THE BUEGOMASTER GULL 

The old-wives- sit on the heaving brine, 

White-breasted in the sun. 
Preening and smoothing their feathers fine. 

And scolding, every one. 



116 THE BURGOMASTER GULL 

The snowy kitti wakes overhead, 

With beautiful beaks of gold, 
And wings of delicate gray outspread, 

Float, listening while they scold. 

And a foolish guillemot, swimming by, 
Though heavy and clumsy and dull, 

Joins in with a will when he hears their cry 
'Gainst the Burgomaster Gull. 

For every sea-bird, far and near. 
With an atom of brains in its skull. 

Knows plenty of reasons for hate and fear 
Of the Burgomaster Gull. 

The black ducks gather, with plumes so rich. 
And the coots in twinkling lines; 

And the swift and slender water-witch, 
Whose neck like silver shines; 

Big eider-ducks, with their caps pale green 
And their salmon-colored vests; 

And gay mergansers sailing between. 
With their long and glittering crests. 

But the loon aloof on the outer edge 

Of the noisy meeting keeps, 
And laughs to watch them behind the ledge 

Where the lazy breaker sweeps. 



THE BURGOMASTER GULL 117 

They scream and wheel, and dive and fret, 

And flutter in the foam; 
And fish and mussels blue they get 

To feed their young at home: 

Till hurrying in, the little auk 

Brings tidings that benumbs, 
And stops at once their clamorous talk, — 

"The Burgomaster comes!" 

And up he sails, a splendid sight! 

With "wings like banners'' wide, 
And eager eyes both big and bright. 

That peer on every side. 

A lovely kittiwake flying past 

With a slippery pollock fine, — 
Quoth the Burgomaster, "Not so fast, 

My beauty ! This is mine ! " 

His strong wing strikes with a dizzying shock; 

Poor kittiwake, shrieking, flees; 
His booty he takes to the nearest rock, 

To eat it at his ease. 

The scared birds scatter to left and right, 

But the bold buccaneer, in his glee. 
Cares little enough for their woe and their fright, — 

" 'T will be yoicr turn next! " cries he. 



118 THE BURGOMASTER GULL 

He sees not, hidden behind the rock, 

In the seaweed, a small boat's hull, 
Nor dreams he the gunners have spared the flock 

For the Burgomaster Gull. 

So proudly his dusky wings are spread. 
And he launches out on the breeze, — 

When lo ! what thunder of wrath and dread ! 
What deadly pangs are these! 

The red blood drips and the feathers fly, 

Down drop the pinions wide; 
The robber- chief, with a bitter cry, 

Falls headlong in the tide ! 

They bear him off with laugh and shout; 

The wary birds return, — 
From the clove-brown feathers that float about 

The glorious news they learn. 

Then such a tumult fills the place 

As never was sung or said; 
And all cry, wild with joy, "The base, 

Bad Burgomaster 's dead! " 

And the old-wives sit with their caps so white, 

And their pretty beaks so red. 
And swing on the billows, and scream with delight, 

For the Burgomaster 's dead! 



LITTLE GUSTAVA 119 



LITTLE GUSTAVA 



jITTLE Gustava sits in the sun, 
Me in the porch, and the little drops run 
from the icicles under the eaves so fast, 
for the bright spring sun shines warm at last, 
And glad is little Gustava. 

5he wears a quaint little scarlet cap, 
Ind a little green bowl she holds in her lap, 
filled with bread and milk to the brim, 
ind a wreath of marigolds round the rim: 
"Ha, ha! " laughs little Gustava. 

Up comes her little gray, coaxing cat, 

With her little pink nose, and she mews, "What's 

that?" 
jrustava feeds her, — she begs for more ; 
A.nd a little brown hen walks in at the door; 
" Good-day ! " cries little Gustava. 

3he scatters crumbs for the little brown hen. 
rhere comes a rush and a flutter, and then 
Down fly her little white doves so sweet. 
With their snowy wings and their crimson feet: 
" Welcome ! " cries little Gustava. 



120 LITTLE GUSTAVA 

So dainty and eager they pick up the crumbs; 
But who is this through the doorway comes? 
Little Scotch terrier, little dog E-ags, 
Looks in her face, and his funny tail wags: 
"Ha, ha!" laughs little Gustava. 

"You want some breakfast, too?" and down 
She sets her bowl on the brick floor brown; 
And little dog Eags drinks up her milk. 
While she strokes his shaggy locks, like silk: 
"Dear Rags! " says little Gustava. 

Waiting without stood sparrow and crow, 
Cooling their feet in the melting snow : 
"Won't you come in, good folk? " she cried. 
But they were too bashful, and stayed outside, 
Though "Pray come in!" cried Gustava. 

So the last she threw them, and knelt on the mat 
With doves and biddy and dog and cat. 
And her mother came to the open house-door: 
" Dear little daughter, I bring you some more, 
My merry little Gustava ! " 

Kitty and terrier, biddy and doves, 
All things harmless Gustava loves. 
The shy, kind creatures 'tis joy to feed. 
And oh, her breakfast is sweet indeed 
To happy little Gustava! 



1 



^ 



CHANTICLEER 121 



CHANTICLEER 

I wake! I feel the day is near; 

I hear the red cock crowing ! 
He cries " 'T is dawn! " How sweet and clear 
His cheerful call comes to my ear, 

While light is slowly growing. 

The white snow gathers, flake on flake; 

I hear the red cock crowing ! 
Is anybody else awake 
To see the winter morning break, 

While thick and fast 'tis snowing? 

I think the world is all asleep; 

I hear the red cock crowing ! 
Out of the frosty pane I peep; 
The drifts are piled so wide and deep. 

And wild the wind is blowing ! 

Nothing I see has shape or form; 

I hear the red cock crowing! 
But that dear voice comes through the storm 
To greet me in my nest so warm. 

As if the sky were glowing! 

A happy little child, I lie 

And hear the red cock crowing. 



122 THE WATER-BLOOM 

The day is dark. I wonder why 
His voice rings out so brave and high, 
With gladness overflowing. 

THE WATEK-BLOOM 

A CHILD looked up in the summer sky 
Wliere a soft, bright shower had just passed by; 
Eastward the dusk rain-curtain hung, 
And swiftly across it the rainbow sprung. 

"Papa! Papa! what is it? " she cried. 
As she gazed with her blue eyes opened wide 
At the wonderful arch that bridged the heaven. 
Vividly glowing with colors seven. 

"Why, that is the rainbow, darling child," 
And the father down on his baby smiled. 

"What makes it, papa? " "The sun, my dear. 
That shines on the water-drops so clear." 

Here was a beautiful mystery ! 

No more questions to ask had she. 

But she thought the garden's loveliest flowers 

Had floated upward and caught in the showers — 

Eose, violet, orange marigold — 

In a ribbon of licrht on the clouds unrolled! 



CROCUS 123 

Red of poppy, and green leaves too, 
Sunflower yellow, and larkspur blue. 

A great, wide, wondrous, splendid wreath 
It seemed to the little girl beneath; 
How did it grow so fast up there. 
And suddenly blossom, high in the air ? 

She could not take her eyes from the sight: 
" Oh, look ! " she cried in her deep delight. 

As she watched the glory spanning the gloom, 
" Oh, look at the beautiful water- bloom ! " 

CROCUS 

Oh, the dear, delightful sound 
Of the drops that to the ground 
From the eaves rejoicing run 
In the February sun ! 
Drip, drip, drip, they slide and slip 
From the icicles' bright tip. 
Till they melt the sullen snow 
On the garden bed below. 
" Bless me ! what is all this drumming ? '* 
Cries the crocus, "I am coming! 
Pray don't knock so long and loud, 
For I 'm neither cross nor proud. 
But a little sleepy still. 



124 CROCUS 

With the winter's lingering chill. 
Never mind! 'Tis time to wake, 
Through the dream at last to break ! " 
'T is as quickly done as said; 
Up she thrusts her golden head, 
Looks about with radiant eyes 
In a kind of shy surprise, 
Tries to say in accents surly, 

" Well ! you called me very early ! " 
But she lights with such a smile 
All the darksome place the while, 
Every heart begins to stir 
Joyfully at sight of her; 
Every creature grows more gay 
Looking in her face to-day. 
She is greeted, "Welcome, dear! 
Fresh smile of the hopeful year ! 
First bright print of Spring's light feet. 
Golden crocus, welcome, sweet ! " 
And she whispers, looking up 
From her richly glowing cup, 
At the sunny eaves so high 
Overhead against the sky, 

"Now I 've come, sparkling drops, 
All your clattering, pattering stops. 
And I 'm very glad I came. 
And you 're not the least to blame 
That you hammered at the snow 



THE CONSTANT DOVE 125 

Till you wakened me below 
With your one incessant tune. 
I 'm not here a bit too soon! " 



THE CONSTANT DOVE 

'HE white dove sat on the sunny eaves, 

nd "What will you do when the north wind grieves ? " 

le said to the busy nuthatch small, 

apping above in the gable tall. 

Ce probed each crack with his slender beak, 
.nd much too busy he was to speak, 
piders, that thought themselves safe and sound, 
.nd moths and flies and cocoons he found. 

I 

)h! but the white dove she was fair, 

bright she shone in the autumn air, 

;:urning her head from the left to the right; 

j)nly to watch her was such delight ! 

'Coo!" she murmured, "poor little thing, 
vVhat will you do when the frosts shall sting ? 
i^piders and flies will be hidden or dead, 
^now underneath and snow overhead." 

^Nuthatch paused in his busy care : 

"And what will you do, white dove fair? '' 



126 THE WANING MOON fl 

" Oh, kind hands feed me with crumbs and grain, 
And I wait with patience for spring again." 

He laughed so loud that his laugh I heard. 
" How can you be such a stupid bird ! 
What are your wings for, tell me, pray, 
But to bear you from tempests and cold away ? 



" Merrily off to the south I fly, 
In search of the summer, presently. 
And warmth and beauty I '11 find anew. 
Why don't you follow the summer, too?" 



I 



But she cooed content on the sunny eaves, 
And looked askance at the reddening leaves; 
And grateful I whispered: "0 white dove true, 
I '11 feed you and love you the winter through." 

THE WANING MOON 

The moon is tired and old ; 
In the morning darkness cold 
She drifts up the paling sky, 
With cheek flushed wearily. 

A little longer, and lo ! 
She is lost in the sun's bright glow; 
A thin shell, pearly and pale, 
'Mid soft white clouds that sail. 



THE BIRDS ORCHESTRA 127 

Art faint and sad, dear moon? 
Gladness shall find thee soon! 
Sorry art thou to wane? 
Thou shalt be young again! 

And beautiful as before 
Thou shalt live in the sky once more; 
From the baby crescent small 
Thou shalt grow to the golden ball: 

And again will the children shout, 
" Oh, look at the moon, look out ! " 
For thou shalt be great and bright 
As when God first made night. 

THE BIRDS' ORCHESTRA 

Bobolink shall play the violin. 

Great applause to win; 
Lonely, sweet, and sad, the meadow lark 

Plays the oboe. Hark! 
That inspired bugle with a soul — 

'T is the oriole ; 
Yellow-bird the clarionet shall play, 

Blithe, and clear, and gay. 
Purple finch what instrument will suit ? 

He can play the flute. 
Fire-winged blackbirds sound the merry fife, 

Soldiers without strife; 



128 THE birds' orchestra 

And the robins wind the mellow horn 

Loudly eve and morn. 
Who shall clash the cymbals? Jay and crow; 

That is all they know. 
Hylas twang their harps so weird and high, 

Such a tuneful cry ! 
And to roll the deep, melodious drum, 

Lo! the bullfrogs come! 
Then the splendid chorus, who shall sing 

Of so fine a thing ? 
Who the names of the performers call 

Truly, one and all? 
Bluebird, bunting, catbird, chickadee 

(Phoebe-bird is he), 
Swallow, creeper, crossbill, cuckoo, dove, 

Wee wren that I love; 
Brisk flycatcher, finches — what a crowd ! 

Kingbird whistling loud; 
Sweet rose-breasted grossbeak, vireo, thrush — 

Hear these two, and hush; 
Scarlet tanager, song sparrow small 

(Dearer he than all; 
At the first sound of his friendly voice 

Saddest hearts rejoice), 
Eedpoll, nuthatch, thrasher, plover gray — 

Curlew did I say ? 
What a jangling all the grakles make! 

Is it some mistake? 



NIKOLINA 129 

Anvil chorus yellow-hammers strike, 

And the wicked shrike 
Harshly creaks like some half-open door; 

He can do no more. 

NIKOLINA 

Oh, tell me, little children, have you seen her — 
The tiny maid from Norway, Nikolina ? 
Oh, her eyes are blue as corn flowers 'mid the corn, 
And her cheeks are rosy red as skies of morn ! 

Oh, buy the baby's blossoms if you meet her, 
And stay with gentle words and looks to greet her ; 
She '11 gaze at you and smile and clasp your hand, 
But no word of your speech can understand. 

Nikolina! Swift she turns if any call her. 
As she stands among the poppies hardly taller, 
Breaking off their flaming scarlet cups for you, 
With spikes of slender larkspur, brightly blue. 

In her little garden many a flower is growing — 
Ked, gold, and purple in the soft wind blowing ; 
But the child that stands amid the blossoms gay 
Is sweeter, quainter, brighter even than they. 

Oh, tell me, little children, have you seen her — 
This baby girl from Norway, Nikolina? 



130 MILKING 

Slowly she ^s learning English words, to try 
And thank you if her flowers you come to buy. 



MILKIKG 

Little dun cow to the apple-tree tied. 

Chewing the cud of reflection, 
I that am milking you, sit by your side. 

Lost in a sad retrospection. 

Far o'er the field the tall daisies blush warm. 

For rosy the sunset is dying; 
Across the still valley, o'er meadow and farm. 

The flush of its beauty is lying. 

Wliite foams the milk in the pail at ray feet. 

Clearly the robins are calling; 
Soft blows the evening wind after the heat. 

Cool the long shadows are falling. 

Little dun cow, 'tis so tranquil and sweet! 

Are you light-hearted, I wonder? 
What do you think about, — something to eat? 

On clover and grass do you ponder % 

I am remembering days that are dead, 
And a brown little maid in the gloaming. 

Milking her cow, with the west burning red 
Over waves that about her were foaming. 



MILKING 131 

Up from the sad east the deep shadows gloomed 

Out of the distance and found her; 
Lightly she sang while the solemn sea boomed 

Like a great organ around her. 

Under the light-house no sweet-brier grew, 

Dry was the grass, and no daisies 
Waved in the wind, and the flowers were few 

That lifted their delicate faces. 

But oh, she was happy, and careless, and blest, 

Full of the song sparrow's spirit; 
Grateful for life, for the least and the best 

Of the blessings that mortals inherit. 

Fairer than gardens of l*aradise seemed 

The desolate spaces of water; 
Nature was hers, — clouds that frowned — stars that 
gleamed, — 

What beautiful lessons they taught her! 

Would I could find you again, little maid, 

Striving with utmost endeavor, — 
Could find in my breast that light heart, unafraid, 

That has vanished for ever and ever ! 



132 YELLOW-BIRD 



YELLOW-BIED 



Yellow-bird, where did you learn that song, 
Perched on the trellis where grapevines clamber, 

In and out fluttering, all day long. 

With your golden breast bedropped with amber? 

Where do you hide such a store of delight, 
O delicate creature, tiny and slender, 

Like a mellow morning sunbeam bright 
And overflowing with music tender ! 

You never learned it at all, the song 

Springs from your heart in rich completeness, 

Beautiful, blissful, clear and strong. 

Steeped in the summer's ripest sweetness. 

To think we are neighbors of yours ! How fine ! 

Oh, what a pleasure to watch you together, 
Bringing your fern-down and floss to reline 

The nest worn thin by the winter weather! 

Send up your full notes like worshipful prayers; 

Yellow- bird, sing while the summer 's before yoU' 
Little you dream that, in spite of their cares. 

Here 's a whole family, proud to adore you! 



A TKIUMPH 133 



A TRIUMPH 

Little Roger up the long slope rushing 

Through the rustling corn, 
Showers of dewdrops from the broad leaves brushing 

In the early morn, 

At his sturdy little shoulder bearing. 

For a banner gay, 
Stem of fir with one long shaving flaring 

In the wind away ! 

Up he goes, the summer sunrise flushing 

O'er him in his race, 
Sweeter dawn of rosy childhood blushing 

On his radiant face; 

If he can but set his standard glorious 

On the hill-top low, 
Ere the svm climbs the clear sky victorious, 

All the world aglow ! 

So he presses on with childish ardor, 

Almost at the top! 
Hasten, Roger! Does the way grow harder? 

Wherefore do you stop ? 



134 A TRIUMPH 

From below the corn-stalks tall and slender 

Comes a plaintive cry; 
Turns he for an instant from the splendor 

Of the crimson sky, 

Wavers, then goes flying toward the hollow, 
Calling loud and clear, 
" Coming, Jenny ! Oh, why did you follow ? 
Don't you cry, my dear! " 

Small Janet sits weeping 'mid the daisies; 

*' Little sister sweet, 
Must you follow Roger 1 " Then he raises 

Baby on her feet. 

Guides her tiny steps with kindness tender. 

Cheerfully and gay. 
All his courage and his strength would lend her 

Up the uneven way. 

Till they front the blazing east together; 

But the sun has rolled 
Up the sky in the still summer weather, 

Flooding them with gold. 

All forgotten is the boy's ambition. 

Low the standard lies. 
Still they stand, and gaze — a sweeter vision 

Ne'er met mortal eyes. 



SLUMBER SONG 135 

That was spendid, Eoger, that was glorious, 

Thus to help the weak; 
Better than to plant your flag vietorious 

On earth's highest peak! 



SLUMBER SONG 

Thou little child, with tender, clinging arms, 
Drop thy sweet head, my darling, down and rest 

Upon my shoulder, rest with all thy charms; 
Be soothed and comforted, be loved and blessed. 

Against thy silken, honey- colored hair 
I lean a loving cheek, a mute caress ; 

Close, close I gather thee and kiss thy fair 
White eyelids, sleep so softly doth oppress. 

Dear little face, that lies in calm content 
Within the gracious hollow that God made 

In every human shoulder, where He meant 
Some tired head for comfort should be laid! 

Most like a heavy-folded rose thou art, 
In summer air reposing, warm and still. 

Dream thy sweet dreams upon my quiet heart; 
I watch thy slumber; naught shall do thee ilL 



13G WARNING 



WARNING 



Take heed, youth, both brave and bright, 

Battles there are for you to fight ! 

Stand up erect and face them all, 

Nor turning flee, nor wavering fall. 

Of all the world's bewildering gifts, 

Take only what the soul uplifts. 

Keep firm your hand upon the helm 

Lest bitter tempests overwhelm; 

And watch lest evil mists should mar 

The glory of your morning star, 

And robe the glory of the day 

You have not reached, in sullen gray. 

Choose then, youth, both bright and brave ! 

Wilt be a monarch or a slave ? 

Ah, scorn to take one step below 

The paths where truth and honor go! 

On manhood's threshold stand, a king, 

Demanding all that life can bring 

Of lofty thought, of purpose high, 

Of beauty and nobility. 

Once master of yourself, no fate 

Can make your rich world desolate, 

And all men shall look up to see 

The glory of your victory. 



THE BUTCHER-BIRD 137 



THE BUTCHER-BIED 

I 'll tell you a story, children, 
The saddest you ever heard. 

About Rupert, the pet canary, 
And a terrible butcher-bird. 

There was such a blinding snowstorm 

One could not see at all, 
And all day long the children 

Had watched the white flakes fall; 

And when the eldest brothers 
Had kissed mamma good-night, 

And up the stairs together 

Had gone with their bedroom light. 

Of a sudden their two fresh voices 
Rang out in a quick surprise, 
"Mamma! papa! come quickly 

And catch him before he flies ! " 

On a picture-frame perched lightly, 
With his head beneath his wing, 

They had found a gray bird sitting; 
That was a curious thing! 



138 THE BUTCHER-BIRD 

Downstairs to the cosy parlor 
They brought him, glad to find 

For the storm-tossed wanderer shelter; 
Not knowing his cruel mind ! 

And full of joy were the children 
To think he was safe and warm, 

And had chosen their house for safety 
To hide from the raging storm! 

"He shall stay with the pretty Rupert, 
And live among mother's flowers, 
And he '11 sing with our robin and sparrow; " 
And they talked about it for hours. 

Alas, in the early morning 

There rose a wail and a cry, 
And a fluttering wild in the cages, 

And Rupert's voice rang high. 

We rushed to the rescue swiftly; 

Too late ! On the shining cage, 
The home of the happy Rupert, 

All rough with fury and rage. 

Stood the handsome, horrible stranger, 

With black and flashing eye, 
And torn almost to pieces 

Did poor dead Rupert lie ! 



FERN-SEED 139 

Oh, sad was all the household, 

And we mourned for Kupert long. 

The fierce wild shrike was prisoned 
In a cage both dark and strong; 

And would you like, children, 

His final fate to know 1 
To Agassiz's Museum 

That pirate bird did go ! 

FEEN-SEED 

She filled her shoes with fern-seed, 

This foolish little Nell, 
And in the summer sunshine 

Went dancing down the dell. 
For whoso treads on fern-seed — 

So fairy stories tell — 
Becomes invisible at once. 

So potent is its spell. 
A frog mused by the brook-side : 

"Can you see me? '' she cried; 
He leaped across the water, 

A flying leap and wide. 
"Oh, that 's because I asked him! 

I must not speak," she thought, 
And skipping o'er the meadow 

The shady wood she sought. 



140 FERN-SEED 

The squirrel chattered on the bough, 

Nor noticed her at all, 
The birds sang high, the birds sang low, 

With many a cry and call. 
The rabbit nibbled in the grass. 

The snake basked in the sun, 
The butterflies, like floating Howers, 

Wavered and gleamed and shone. 
The spider in his hammock swung, 

The gay grasshoppers danced; 
And now and then a cricket sung 

And shining beetles glanced. 
'T was all because the pretty child 

So softly, softly trod, — 
You could not hear a footfall 

Upon the yielding sod. 
But she was filled with such delight — 

This foolish little Nell! 
And with her fern-seed laden shoes, 

Danced back across the dell. 
"I '11 find my mother now," she thought, 

"What fun 't will be to call 
' Mamma ! Mamma ! ' while she can see 

No little girl at all!" 
She peeped in through the window, 

Mamma sat in a dream: 
About the quiet sun-steeped house 

All things asleep did seem. 



FERN-SEED 141 

She stept across the threshold; 

So lightly had she crept, 
The dog upon the mat lay still, 

And still the kitty slept. 
Patient beside her mother's knee 

To try her wondrous spell 
Waiting she stood, till all at once, 

Waking, mamma cried "Nell! 
Where have you been? why do you gaze 

At me with such strange eyes ? " 
" But can you see me, mother dear 1 "' 

Poor Nelly faltering cries. 
"See you? why not, my little girl? 

Why should mamma be blind ? " 
And pretty Nell unties her shoes, 

With fairy fern- seed lined; 
She tosses up into the air 

A little powdery cloud. 
And frowns upon it as it falls, 

And murmurs half aloud, 
"It was n't true, a word of it, 

About the magic spell! 
I never will believe again 

What fairy stories tell ! " 



142 THE GREAT WHITE OWL 



THE GEEAT WHITE OWL 

He sat aloft on the rocky height, 

Snow-white above the snow, 
In the winter morning calm and bright, 

And I gazed at him, below. 

He faced the east, where the sunshine streamed 

On the singing, sparkling sea. 
And he blinked with his yellow eyes, that seemed 

All sightless and blank to be. 

The snowbirds swept in a whirling crowd 

About him gleefully, 
And piped and whistled sweet and loud. 

But never a plume stirred he. 

Singing they passed, and away they flew 

Through the brilliant atmosphere; 
Cloud-like he sat, with the living blue 

Of the sky behind him, clear. 

"Give you good-morrow, friend," I cried. 
He wheeled his large round head, 
Solemn and stately, from side to side, 
But never a word he said. 



THE GREAT WHITE OWL 143 

"O lonely creature, weird and white, 
Why are you sitting there. 
Like a glimmering ghost from the still midnight, 
In the beautiful morning air ? " 

He spurned the rock with his talons strong, 

No human speech brooked he ; 
Like a snowflake huge he sped along 

Swiftly and noiselessly. 

His wide, slow-waving wings so white, 

Heavy and soft did seem; 
Yet rapid as a dream his flight, 

And silent as a dream. 

And when a distant crag he gained, 

Bright-twinkling like a star. 
He shook his shining plumes, and deigned 

To watch me from afar. 

And once again, when the evening-red 

Burned dimly in the west, 
I saw him motionless, his head 

Bent forward on his breast. 

Dark and still, 'gainst the sunset sky 

Stood out his figure lone; 
Crowning the bleak rock far and high, 

By sad winds overblown. 



144 THE BLIND LAMB 

Did he dream of the ice-fields, stark and drear? 

Of his haunts on the Arctic shore 1 
Or the downy brood in his nest last year 

On the coast of Labrador? 

Had he fluttered the Esquimaux huts among? 

How I wished he could speak to me ! 
Had he sailed on the icebergs, rainbow-hung, 

In the open Polar Sea ? 

Oh, many a tale he might have told 

Of marvelous sounds and sights. 
Where the world lies hopeless and dumb with cold, 

Through desolate days and nights. 

But with folded wings, while the darkness fell, 

He sat, nor spake, nor stirred; 
And charmed as if by a subtile spell, 

I mused on the wondrous Bird. 



THE BLIND LAMB 

'T WAS summer, and softly the ocean 
Sang, sparkling in light and heat, 

And over the water and over the land 
The warm south wind blew sweet. 

And the children played in the sunshine. 
And shouted and scampered in glee 



THE BLIND LAMB 145 

O'er the grassy slopes, or the weed-strewn beach, 
Or rocked on the dreaming sea. 

They had roamed the whole bright morning, 

The troop of merry boys. 
And in they flocked at noontide, 

With a clamor of joyful noise. 

And they bore among them gently 

A wee lamb, white as snow ; 
And, "0 mamma, mamma, he 's blind! 

He can't tell where to go. 

'And we fomid him lost and lonely. 
And we brought him home to you. 

And we 're going to feed him and care for him! " 
Cried the eager little crew. 

■ Look, how he falls over everything ! " 

And they set him on his feet. 
And aimlessly he wandered, 

With a low and mournful bleat. 

Some sign of pity he seemed to ask. 

And he strove to draw more near. 
When he felt the touch of a human hand, 

Or a kind voice reached his ear. 



146 THE BLIND LAMB 

They tethered him in a grassy space 

Hard by the garden gate, 
And with sweet fresh milk they fed him. 

And cared for him early and late. 



But as the golden days went on. 

Forgetful the children grew, 
They wearied of tending the poor blind lamb; 

No longer a plaything new. 

And so each day I changed his place 

Within the garden fence, 
And fed him morn and noon and eve. 

And was his Providence. 

And he knew the rustle of my gown, 

And every lightest tone. 
And when he heard me pass, straightway 

He followed o'er stock and stone. 

One dark and balmy evening. 

When the south wind breathed of rain, 
I went to lead my pet within. 

And found but a broken chain. 

And a terror fell upon me, 

For round on every side 
The circling sea was sending in 

The strength of the full flood-tide. 



I 



THE BLIND LAMB 147 

I called aloud and listened, 

I knew not where to seek; 
Out of the dark the warm wet wind 

Blew soft against my cheek, 

And naught was heard but the sound of waves 

Crowding against the shore. 
Over the dewy grass I ran. 

And called aloud once more. 

What reached me out of the distance *? 

Surely, a piteous bleat! 
I threw my long dress over my arm, 

And followed with flying feet. 

Down to the edge of the water, 

Calling again and again. 
Answered so clearly, near and more near, 

By that tremulous cry of pain ! 

I crept to the end of the rocky ledge. 

Black lay the water wide; 
Up from among the rippling waves 

Came the shivering voice that cried. 

I could not see, but I answered him ; 

And, stretching a rescuing hand, 
I felt in the darkness his sea-soaked wool, 

And drew him in to the land. 



148 THE BLIND LAMB 

And the poor little creature pressed so close, 

Distracted with delight, 
While I dried the brine from his dripping fleece 

With my apron soft and white. 

Close in my arms I gathered him, 
More glad than tongue can tell, 
And he laid on my shoulder his pretty head ; 
• He knew that all was well. 

And I thought as I bore him swiftly back. 

Content, close folded thus. 
Of the Heavenly Father compassionate, 

Wliose pity shall succor us. 

I thought of the arms of mercy 

That clasp the world about, 
And that not one of His children 

Shall perish in dread and doubt: 

For He hears the voices that cry to Him, 

And near his love shall draw: 
With help and comfort He waits for us. 

The Light, and the Life, and the Law ! 



DUST 149 



DUST 



Here is a problem, a wonder for all to see. 

Look at this marvelous thing I hold in my hand ! 
This is a magic surprising, a mystery 

Strange as a miracle, harder to understand. 



"&^ 



What is it? Only a handful of earth: to your touch 
A dry rough powder you trample beneath your feet. 

Dark and lifeless; but think for a moment, how much 
It hides and holds that is beautiful, bitter, or sweet. 

Think of the glory of color ! The red of the rose. 
Green of the myriad leaves and the fields of grass, 

Yellow as bright as the sun where the daffodil blows. 
Purple where violets nod as the breezes pass. 

Think of the manifold form, of the oak and the vine, 
Nut, and fruit, and cluster, and ears of corn; 

Of the anchored water-lily, a thing divine, 

Unfolding its dazzling snow to the kiss of morn. 

Think of the. delicate perfumes borne on the gale, 
Of the golden willow catkin's odor of sjDring, 

Of the breath of the rich narcissus waxen-pale. 

Of the sweet pea's flight of flowers, of the nettle's 
sting. 



150 DUST 



1 



Strange that this lifeless thing gives vine, flower, tree 

Color and shape and character, fragrance too; 
That the timber that builds the house, the ship for the 
sea, 
Out of this powder its strength and its toughness 
drew ! 



That the cocoa among the palms should suck its milk 
From this dry dust, while dates from the self-same 
soil 
Summon their sweet rich fruit: that our shining silk 
The mulberry leaves should yield to the worm's 
slow toil. 

How should the poppy steal sleep from the very source 
That grants to the grapevine juice that can madden 
or cheer? 

How does the weed find food for its fabric coarse 
Where the lilies proud their blossoms pure uprear? 

Who shall compass or fathom God's thought profound? 

We can but praise, for we may not understand; 
But there 's no more beautiful riddle the whole world 
round 
Than is hid in this heap of dust I hold in my 
hand. 



THE SCARECROW 151 



THE SCARECEOW 



The farmer looked at his cherry-tree, 

With thick buds clustered on every bough; 
"I wish I could cheat the robins," said he; 
" If somebody only would show me how ! 

"I '11 make a terrible scarecrow grim, 

With threatening arms and with bristling head, 
And up in the tree I '11 fasten him 

To frighten them half to death," he said. 

He fashioned a scarecrow tattered and torn — 

Oh, 'twas a horrible thing to see! 
And very early, one summer morn. 

He set it up in his cherry-tree. 

The blossoms were white as the light sea-foam, 
The beautiful tree was a lovely sight, 

But the scarecrow stood there so much at home 
All the birds flew screaming away in fright. 

The robins, who watched him every day. 
Heads held aslant, keen eyes so bright! 

Surveying the monster, began to say, 

"Why should this monster our prospects blight? 



152 THE SCARECROW 

"He never moves round for the roughest weather, 
He 's a harmless, comical, tough old fellow; 
Let 's all go into the tree together. 

For he won't budge till the fruit is mellow!" 

So up they flew; and the sauciest pair 

Mid the shady branches peered and perked. 

Selected a spot with the utmost care, 
And all day merrily sang and worked. 

And where do you think they built their nest? 

Jn the scarecrow's pocket, if you please. 
That, half-concealed on his ragged breast. 

Made a charming covert of safety and ease ! 

By the time the cherries were ruby- red, 
A thriving family, hungry and brisk. 

The whole long day on the ripe fruit fed; 
'Twas so convenient! They ran no risk! 

Until the children were ready to fly. 
All undisturbed they lived in the tree ; 

For nobody thought to look at the Guy 
For a robin's flourishing family! 



THE CRADLE 153 



THE CRADLE 

The barn was low and dim and old, 
Broad on the floor the sunshine slept, 

And through the windows and the doors 
Swift in and out the swallows swept. 

And breezes from the summer sea 

Drew through, and stirred the fragrant hay 
Down-dropping from the loft, wherein 

A gray old idle fish-net lay 

Heaped in a corner, and one loop 

Hung loose the dry, sweet grass among. 

And hammock-wise to all the winds 
It floated to and fro, and swung. 

And there one day the children brought 
The pet of all the house to play ; 

A baby boy of three years old. 

And sweeter than the dawn of day. 

They laid him in the dropping loop. 
And softly swung him, till at last 

Over his beauty balmy Sleep 
Its delicate enchantment cast. 



154 THE CRADLE ■ 

And then they ran to call us all: | 

"Come, see where little E-ob is! Guess!" 

And brought us where the darling lay, 
A heap of rosy loveliness 

Curled in the net: the dim old place 
He brightened; like a star he shone 

Cradled in air; we stood as once 
The shepherds of Judea had done. 

And while adoring him we gazed, 
With eyes that gathered tender dew. 

Wrathful upon the gentle scene 
His Celtic nurse indignant flew. 

"Is this a fit place for the child! " 
And out of his delicious sleep 
She clutched him, muttering as she went, 
Her scorn and wonder, low and deep. 

His father smiled, and drew aside; 
A grave, sweet look was in his face, 
" For One, who in. a manger lay. 

It was not found too poor a place I '* 



MARCH 155 



MAECH 



I WONDER what spendthrift chose to spill 
Such bright gold under my window-sill! 
Is it fairy gold ? Does it glitter still ? 
Bless me! it is but a daffodil! 

And look at the crocuses, keeping tryst 
With the daffodil by the sunshine kissed ! 
Like beautiful bubbles of amethyst 
They seem, blown out of the earth's snow-mist. 

And snowdrops, delicate, fairy bells. 
With a pale green tint like the ocean swells; 
And the hyacinths weaving their perfumed spells ! 
The ground is a rainbow of asphodels! 

Who said that March was a scold and a shrew ? 
Who said she had nothing on earth to do 
But tempests and furies and rages to brew ? 
Why, look at the wealth she has lavished on you ! 

March that blusters and March that blows, 
What color under your footsteps glows ! 
Beauty you summon from winter snows. 
And you are the pathway that leads to the rose. 



156 THE SHAG 



THE SHAG 



" What is that great bird, sister, tell me, 
Perched high on the top of the crag 1 " 

" 'T is the cormorant, dear little brother; 
The fishermen call it the shag." 

"But what does it there, sister, tell me. 
Sitting lonely against the black sky 1 " 

"It has settled to rest, little brother; 
It hears the wild gale wailing high." 

"But I am afraid of it, sister. 
For over the sea and the land 
It gazes, so black and so silent ! " 

"Little brother, hold fast to my hand." 

"Oh, what was that, sister? The thunder? 
Did the shag bring the storm and the cloud, 
The wind and the rain and the lightning 1 " 
"Little brother, the thunder roars loud. 

"Kun fast, for the rain sweeps the ocean; 
Look ! over the light-house it streams ; 
And the lightning leaps red, and above us 
The gulls fill the air with their screams." 



SIR WILLIAM NAPIER AND LITTLE JOAN 157 

O'er the beach, o'er the rocks, running swiftly, 
The little white cottage they gain ; 

And safely they watch from the window 
The dance and the rush of the rain. 

But the shag kept his place on the headland, 
And when the brief storm had gone by, 
I He shook his loose plumes, and they saw him 
Eise splendid and strong in the sky. 

Clinging fast to the gown of his sister, 
The little boy laughed as he flew ; 
" He is gone with the wind and the lightning ! 
And — I am not frightened, — are you 1 " 

SIE WILLIAM NAPIER AND LITTLE JOAN 

Sir William Napier, one bright day, 

Was walking down the glen, 
A noble English soldier. 

And the handsomest of men. 

Among the fragrant hedgerows 

He slowly wandered down. 
Through blooming field and meadow, 

By pleasant Ereshford town. 



158 SIR WILLIAM NAPIER AND LITTLE JOAN 

With look and mien magnificent 
And step so grand moved he ! 

And from his stately front outshone 
Beauty and majesty. 

About his strong white forehead 
The rich locks thronged and curled 

Above the splendor of his eyes 
That might command the world! 

A sound of bitter Aveeping 

Came up to his quick ear, 
He paused that instant, bending 

His kingly head to hear. 

Among the grass and daisies 

Sat wretched little Joan, 
And near her lay a bowl of delf 

Broken upon a stone. 

Her cheeks were red with crying, 
And her blue eyes dull and dim, 

And she turned her pretty woeful face 
All tear-stained up to him. 

Scarce six years old and sobbing 
In misery so drear! 
"Why, what's the matter. Posy?" 
He said, "Come, tell me, dear." 



SIR WILLIAM NAPIER AND LITTLE JOAN 159 

"It 's father's bowl I 'se broken, 
'T was for liis dinner kept: 
I took it safe, but coming home 
It fell, " — again she wept. 

"But you can mend it, can't you? " 
Cried the despairing child 
With sudden hope, as down on her 
Like some kind god he smiled. 

"Don't cry, poor little Posy! 
I cannot make it whole, 
But I can give you sixpence 
To buy another bowl." 

He sought in vain for silver 

In purse and pockets too, 
And found but golden guineas; 

He pondered what to do. 

"This time to-morrow, Posy," 
He said, "again come here. 
And I will bring your sixpence, 
I promise ! Never fear ! " 

Away went Joan rejoicing, 

A rescued child was she. 
And home went good Sir William, 

And to him presently 



160 SIR WILLIAM NAPIER AND LITTLE JOAN 

A footman brings a letter, 
And low before him bends, 
" Will not Sir William come and dine 
To-morrow with his friends 1 " 



The letter read, "And we 've secured 

The man among all men 
You wish to meet ! He will be here ; 

You will not fail us then 1 " 



To-morrow ! could he get to Bath 
And dine with Dukes and Earls 

And back in time? That hour was pledged 
It was the little girl's ! 

He could not disappoint her, 

He must his friend refuse, 
So "a previous engagement" 

He pleaded as excuse. 

Next day when she, all eager. 

Came o'er the fields so fair, 
Not surer of the sunrise 

Than that she should find him there. 

He met her, and the sixpence 

Laid in her little hand. 
Her woe was ended, and her heart 

The lightest in the land. 



i 



BLUEBIRDS IN AUTUMN 161 

How would the stately company 

Who had so much desired 
His presence at their splendid feast, 

Have wondered and admired! 

As soldier, scholar, gentleman, 

His praises oft are heard — 
'T was not the least of his great deeds 

So to have kept his word. 



BLTJEBIEDS IN AUTUMN 

The morning was gray and cloudy. 

And over the fading land 
Autumn was casting the withered leaves 

Abroad with a lavish hand. 

Sad lay the tawny pastures. 

Where the grass was brown and dry ; 
And the far-off hills were blurred with mist. 

Under the sombre sky. 

The frost already had fallen. 

No bird seemed left to sing; 
And I sighed to think of the tempests 

Between us and the spring. 



162 BLUEBIRDS IN AUTUMN 

But the woodbine yet was scarlet 
Where it found a place to cling; 

And the old dead weeping- willow 
Was draped like a splendid king. 

Suddenly out of the heavens, 
Like sapphire sparks of light, 

A flock of bluebirds swept and lit 
In the woodbine garlands bright. 

The tree was alive in a moment 
With motion, color, and song; 

How gorgeous the flash of their azure wings 
The blood-red leaves among! 

Beautiful, brilliant creatures! 

What sudden delight they brought 
Into the pallid morning, 

Eebuking my dreary thought! 

Only a few days longer, 

And they would have flown, to find 
The wonderful, vanished summer, 

Leaving darkness and cold behind. 

Oh, to flee from the bitter weather. 
The winter's buffets and shocks, — 

To borrow their strong, light pinions, 
And follow their shining flocks! 



TRAGEDY ' 163 

While they sought for the purple berries, 

So eager and bright and glad, 
I watched them, dreaming of April, 

Ashamed to have been so sad. 

And I thought, "Though I cannot follow them, 

I can patiently endure. 
And make the best of the snowstorms. 

And that is something more. 

"And when I see them returning. 
All heaven to earth they '11 bring; 
And my joy will be the deeper. 

For I shall have earned the spring. " 



TRAGEDY 

" You queer little wonderful owlet ! you atom so fluffy 

and small! 
Half a handful of feathers and two great eyes — how 

came you alive at all ? 
And why do you sit here blinking as blind as a bat in 

the light, 
With your pale eyes bigger than saucers? Now who 

ever saw such a sight! 

" And what ails chickadee, tell me ! what makes him 
flutter and scream 



I 



164 TRAGEDY 

Kound and over you where you sit like a tiny ghost in 

a dream? 
I thought him a sensible fellow, quite steady and calm 

and wise, 
But only see how he hops and flits, and hear how 

wildly he cries! 

"What is the matter, you owlet? You will not be: 

frightened away ! — 
Do you mean on that twig of a lilac- bush the whole I 

night long to stay ? 
Are you bewitching my chickadee-dee ? I really be- 3 

lieve that you are ! 
I wish you'd go off, you strange brown bird — oh, 

ever and ever so far! 

" I fear you are weaving and winding some kind of a 
dreadful charm; 

If I leave poor chickadee-dee with you, I 'm sure he 
will come to harm. 

But what can I do? We can't stay here forever 
together, we three — 

One anxious child, and an owlet weird, and a fright- 
ened chickadee-dee ! " 

I could not frighten the owl away, and chickadee 

would not come, 
So I just ran off with a heavy heart, and told my 

mother at home; 



JACK FROST 165 

But when my brothers and sisters went the curious 

sight to see, 
The owl was gone, and there lay on the ground tivo 

feathers of chickadee-dee! 



JACK FROST 

RusTiLY creak the crickets: Jack Prost came down 

last night. 
He slid to the earth on a starbeam, keen and sparkling 

and bright; 
He sought in the grass for the crickets with delicate 

icy spear, 
So sharp and fine and fatal, and he stabbed them far 

and near. 
Only a few stout fellows, thawed by the morning sun, 
Chirrup a mournful echo of by-gone frolic and fun. 
But yesterday such a rippling chorus ran all over the 

land. 
Over the hills and the valleys, down to the gray sea- 
sand, 
Millions of merry harlequins, skipping and dancing in 

glee, 
Cricket and locust and grasshopper, happy as happy 

could be: 
Scooping rich caves in ripe apples, and feeding on 

honey and spice, 
Drunk with the mellow sunshine, nor dreaming of 

spears of ice ! 



166 JACK FROST 

Was it not enough that the crickets your weapon of 
power should pierce? 

Pray what have you done to the flowers? Jack Frost, 
you are cruel and fierce. 

With never a sign or a whisper, you kissed them, and 
lo, they exhale 

Their beautiful lives; they are drooping, their sweet I 
color ebbs, they are pale. 

They fade and they die ! See the pansies, yet striving 
so hard to unfold 

Their garments of velvety splendor, all Tyrian purple ) 
and gold. [ 

But how weary they look, and how withered, like 
handsome court dames, who all night 

Have danced at the ball till the sunrise struck chill to 
their hearts with its light. 

^Vllere hides the wood-aster? She vanished as snow- 
wreaths dissolve in the sun 

The moment you touched her. Look yonder, where, 
sober and gray as a nun. 

The maple-tree stands that at sunset was blushing as 
red as the sky ; 

At its foot, glowing scarlet as fire, its robes of magnifi- 
cence lie. 

Despoiler ! stripping the world as you strip the shiv- 
ering tree 
Of color and sound and perfume, scaring the bird and 
the bee, 



A LULLABY 167 

Turning beauty to ashes, — oh, to join the swift swal- 
lows and fly 

Far away out of sight of your mischief! I give you 
no welcome, not I! 



A LULLABY 

Sleep, my darling, sleep! 

Thunders the pitiless storm; 
Fiercely at window and door 
Wrestle the winds and roar: 
Thy slumber is deep and warm. 

Sleep, my darling, sleep! 

Sleep, my baby, sleep! 

Over thy beautiful head. 
Lightly, softly, and close. 
Sweeter than lily or rose. 
Thy mother's kisses are shed. 

Sleep, my baby, sleep! 

Sleep, my darling, sleep! 

Safe in these arms, my own, 
Summer shall wrap thee round; 
Never harsh touch or sound 
Break through that charmed zone„ 

Sleep, then, darling, sleep! 



168 APRIL AND MAY 

Sleep, my angel, sleep! 

Nestle against my hearty 
Sunk in a golden calm, — 
Delicate, breathing of balm. 
All my heaven thou art, 

Sleep, my angel, sleep! 



APRIL AND MAY 

I. APRIL 

Birds on the boughs before the buds 

Begin to burst in the Spring, 
Bending their heads to the April floods, 

Too much out of breath to sing! 

They chirp, "Hey-day! How the rain comes down! 

Comrades, cuddle together! 
Cling to the bark so rough and brown, 

For this is April weather. 

Oh, the warm, beautiful, drenching rain ! 

I don't mind it, do you? 
Soon will the sky be clear again, 

Smiling, and fresh, and blue. 

" Sweet and sparkling is every drop 

That slides from the soft, gray clouds; 



APRIL AND MAY 169 

Blossoms will blush to the very top 
Of the bare old tree in crowds. 

"Oh, the warm, delicious, hopeful rain! 
Let us be glad together. 
Summer comes flying in beauty again, 
Through the fitful April weather." 

II. MAY 

Skies are glowing in gold and blue; 

What did the brave birds say ? 
Plenty of sunshine to come, they knew, 

In the pleasant month of May ! 

She calls a breeze from the South to blow. 
And breathe on the boughs so bare, 

And straight they are laden with rosy snow, 
And there 's honey and spice in the air! 

Oh, the glad, green leaves ! Oh, the happy wind ! 

Oh, delicate fragrance and balm! 
Storm and tumult are left behind 

In a rapture of golden calm. 

From dewy morning to starry night 

The birds sing sweet and strong. 
That the radiant sky is filled with light, 

That the days are fair and long. 



170 robin's rain-song 

That bees are drowsy about the hive — = 
Earth is so warm and gay ! 

And 'tis joy enough to be alive 
In the heavenly month of May ! 



KOBIN'S RAIN-SONG 

E-OBIN, pipe no more of rain, 

'Tis four days since we saw the sun, 

And still the misty Avindow-pane 

Is loud with drops that leap and run. 

Four days ago the sky was clear. 

But when my mother heard you call, 

She said, "That's Eobin's rain-song, dears 
Oh, well he knows when rain will fall ! " 

Fair was the morning, and I wept 
Because she would not let me stray 

Into the woods for flowers, but kept 
My feet from Avandering away. 

And I was vexed to hear you cry 
So sweetly of the coming storm. 

And watched with brimming eyes the sky 
Grow cold and dim from clear and warm. 



A SONG OF EASTER 171 

It seemed to me you brought it all 
With that incessant, plaintive note; 

And still you call the drops to fall 
Upon your brown and scarlet coat. 

How nice to be a bird like you, 

And let the rain come pattering down, 

Nor mind a bit to be wet through, 
Nor fear to sjDoil one's only gown! 

But since I cannot be a bird. 

Sweet Robin, pipe no more of rain! 

Your merrier music is preferred; 
Forget at last that sad refrain ! 

And tell us of the sunshine, dear — 

I 'm wild to be abroad again, 
Seeking for blossoms far and near: 

Robin, pipe no more of rain ! 



A SONG OF EASTER 

Sing, children, sing! 
And the lily censers swing; 
Sing that life and joy are waking and that Death no 

more is king. 
Sing the happy, happy tumult of the slowly brighten- 
ing Spring; 

Sing, little children, sing! 



ss 



172 A SONG OF EASTER 

Sing, children, sing! 

Winter wild has taken wing. 
Fill the air with the sweet tidings till the frosty echoea| 

ring ! 

Along the eaves the icicles no longer glittering cling. 
And the crocus in the garden lifts its bright face to 

the sun. 
And in the meadows softly the brooks begin to run. 

And the golden catkins swing 

In the warm airs of the Spring; 

Sing, little children, sing! 



Sing, children, sin 



The lilies white you bring 
In the joyous Easter morning for hope are blossoming; 
And as the earth her shroud of snow from off her 

breast doth fling, 
So may we cast our fetters off" in God's eternal Spring. 
So may we find release at last from sorrow and fron^ 

pain. 
So may we find our childhood's calm, delicious daw 

again. 
Sweet are your eyes, little ones, that look witl 

smiling grace, 
Without a shade of doubt or fear into the future's face' 

Sing, sing in happy chorus, with joyful voices tell 
That death is life, and God is good, and all things 
shall be well; 



PERSEVERANCE 173 

That bitter days shall cease 
In warmth and light and peace, 
That Winter yields to Spring, — 
Sing, little children, sing! 



PEESEVERANCE 

Out I went in the morning, to look at my garden gay: 
Everything shone with the dewdrops that sparkling 

and trembling lay 
Scattered to left and to right, and the webs of the 

spiders were hung 
Thickly with pearls and diamonds; light in the wind 

they swung. 

Down in a corner, my sunflower, tall as a lilac-tree. 
Shook out his tattered golden flags, and bowed and 

nodded to me. 
Eather heavy-headed was he, for that I did not care. 
For he blazed all over with flowers, though rather the 

worse for wear. 

And under the sunflower, on the fence, a little brown 

bird sat, 
Trying to sing; you never heard such a queer little 

song as that! 
A soft brown baby sparrow, without any tail at all. 
Trying his voice as he sat alone beneath the sunflower 

tall. 



174 PERSEVERANCE 

He couldn't sing in the least, you know; he quavered 

and quavered again, 
Seeking so hard to recollect his father's beautiful 

strain ! 
But his young voice was hoarse and weak; he could 

not find the tune 
He used to hear above the nest in the happy days of 

June. 

But not at all was he daunted; he warbled it o'er and 

o'er, 
And every time I thought it grew more comical than 

before. 
The very sunflower seemed to laugh at the flufi'y little 

bird, 
His broad, bright faces seemed to say, "Was ever such 

music heard ! " 

I said, "Never mind, my darling; you'll conquer it 
by and by, 

For never baby or bird could fail, with so much cour- 
age to try ! " 

So I left him there, still singing, and I heard him 
every day 

Doing bravely his little best, till winter drove him 
away. 



RESCUED 175 

Ehe dear bird and the golden flower! I mourned 

when chilly snow 
5ent south the small musician and laid the sunflower 

low. 
But I was sure, when in the spring the sparrows 

should return, 
His singing would be perfect, for he strove so hard to 

learn. 



EESCUED 

''Little lad, slow wandering across the sands so yel- 
low. 
Leading safe a lassie small, — oh, tell me, little fellow, 
Whither go you loitering in the summer weather, 
.Chattering like sweet-voiced birds on a bough to- 
^ gether?'' 

"I am Eobert, if you please, and this is Rose, my 

sister, 
lYoungest of us all,'' — he bent his curly head and 

kissed her; 
"Every day we come and wait here till the sun is 

setting, 
I Watching for our father's ship, for mother dear is 

fretting. 



176 RESCUED 

"Long ago he sailed away out of sight and hearing, 
Straight across the bay he went, into sunset steering. 
Every day we look for him, and hope for his returning, 
Every night my mother keeps the candle for him 
burning. 

" Summer goes and Winter comes, and Spring returns, 
but never 

Father's step comes to the gate. Oh! is he gone for- 
ever? 

The great grand ship that bore him off, thmk you some 
tempest wrecked her 1 " 

Tears shone in little Eose's eyes, upturned to her 
protector. 

Eagerly the bonny boy went on: "Oh, sir, look yon- 
der! 

In the offing see the sails that east and westward 
wander ; 

Every hour they come and go, the misty distance 
thronging. 

While we watch and see them fade, with sorrow and 
with longing." 

"Little Kobert! little Kose!" The stranger's eyes 

were glistening, 
At his bronzed and bearded face upgazed the children, 
listening ; 



THE COCKATOOS 177 

He knelt upon the yellow sand, and clasped them to 
his bosom, 

Robert brave, and little Eose, as bright as any blos- 
som. 

"Father! Father! Is it you?" The still air rings 
with rapture; 

Ail the vanished joy of years the waiting ones recap- 
ture ! 

Finds he welcome wild and sweet, the low-thatched 
cottage reaching, 

But the ship that into sunset steered upon the rocks 
lies bleaching. 

THE COCKATOOS 

Empty the throne-chair stood; mayhap 
The king was taking his royal nap, 
For early it was in the afternoon 
Of a drowsy day in the month of June. 

And the palace doors were open wide 

To the soft and dreamful airs outside, 

And the blue sky burned witli the summer glow, 

And the trees cool masses of shade did throw. 

The throne-chair stood in a splendid room. 
There were velvets in ruby and purple bloom, 



178 THE COCKATOOS 

Curtains magnificent to see, 

And a table draped most sumptuously. 

And on the table a cushion lay 
Colored like clouds at the close of day, 
And a crown, rich- sparkling with myriad rays, 
Shone on the top, in a living blaze. 

And nobody spoke and nobody stirred 
Except a bird that sat by a bird, — 
Two cockatoos on a lofty perch, 
Sober and grave as monks in a church. 

Gay with the glory of painted plume, 
Their bright hues suited the brilliant room; 
Green and yellow, and rose and blue. 
Scarlet and orange, and jet black, too. 

Said one to the other, eying askance 
The beautiful fleur-de-lis of France 
On the cushion's lustrous edge, set round 
In gleaming gold on a violet ground, — 

Said one to the other, "Eocco, my dear, 
If any thief were to enter here, 
He might take crown and cushion away, 
And who would be any the wiser, pray % " 



THE COCKATOOS 179 

'Said Rocco, " How stupid, my dear Coquette ! 
A guard is at every threshold set; 
No thief could enter, much less get out, 
Without the sentinel's warning shout." 

She tossed her head, did the bright Coquette. 
"Rocco, my dear, now what will you bet 
That the guards are not sleeping this moment as sound 
As the king himself, all the palace round? 



"'Tis very strange, so it seems to me. 



That they leave things open so carelessly; 

Really, I think it 's a little absurd 

All this should be left to the care of a bird! 

"And what is that creaking so light and queer? 
Listen a moment. There! Don't you hear? 
And what is that moving the curtain behind? 
Rocco, my dear, are you deaf and blind ? " 

The heavy curtain was pushed away 
And a shaggy head, unkempt and gray, 
From the costly folds looked doubtful out, 
And eagerly everywhere peered about. 

And the dull eyes lighted upon the blaze 
Of the gorgeous crown with a startled gaze, 
And out of the shadow the figure stepped 
And softly over the carpet crept. 



180 THE COCKATOOS 

And nobody spoke and nobody stirred, 
And the one bird sat by the other bird, 
Both overpowered by their surprise; 
They really couldn't believe their eyes! 

Swiftly the madman, in fear's despite, 
Darted straight to that hill of light; 
The frightened birds saw the foolish wretch 
His hand to the wondrous thing outstretch. 

Then both at once such an uproar raised 
That the king himself rushed in, amazed, 
Half awake, in his dressing-gown, 
And there on the floor lay the sacred crown ! 

And he caught a glimpse through the portal wid^ 
Of a pair of flying heels outside. 
And he shouted in royal wrath, "What ho! 
Where are my people, I 'd like to know! '' 

They ran to the rescue in terror great. 
"' Is this the way that you guard my state ? 
Had it not been for my cockatoos 
My very crown I had chanced to lose ! " 

They sought in the shrubbery to and fro, 
Wherever they thought the thief might go; 
They looked through the garden, but all in vain, 
They searched the forest, they scoured the plain. 



THE DOUBLE SUNFLOWER 181 

They gave it up, for they could not choose. 
But oh, the pride of those cockatoos! 
If they were admired and petted before, 
Noiu they were utterly spoiled, be sure ! 

They 'd a special servant on them to wait. 
To do their pleasure early and late: 
They grew so haughty and proud and grand, 
Their fame was spread over all the land. 

And when they died it made such a stir ! 
And their skins were stuffed with spice and myrrh. 
And from their perch they still look down. 
As on the day when they saved the crown. 

THE DOUBLE SUNFLOWER 

The sunflowers hung their banners out in the sweet 
September weather; 

A stately company they stood by the garden fence to- 
gether. 

And looked out on the shining sea that bright and 
brighter grew. 

And slowly bowed their golden heads to every wind 
that blew. 

But the double sunflower bloomed apart, far proudei 
than the rest, 



182 THE DOUBLE SUNFLOWER 

And by his crown's majestic weight he seemed almost 

oppressed. 
He held himself aloof upon his tall and slender stem, 
And gloried in the splendor of his double diadem. 

All clothed in bells of lovely blue, a morning-glory . 

vine ! 

Could find no friendly stick or stalk about which she 

might twine; 
And prone upon the ground near by, with blossoms 

red as fire, 
A scarlet runner lay for lack of means to clamber 

higher. 

They both perceived the sunflower tall who proudly 

stood aside; 
Nothing to them was his grand air of majesty and 

pride ; 
With one accord they charged at him, and up his stalk 

they ran, 
And straight to hang their red and blue all over him 

began. 

Oh, then he was magnificent, all azure, gold, and 

flame! 
But, woe is me ! an autumn breeze from out the north-_ 

west came; 



IN THE BLACK FOREST 183 

I With all their leaves and flowers the vines about him 
j closely wound, 

1 And with that keen wind's help at once they dragged 
I him to the ground. 

. I found him there next morning, his pomp completely 
i wrecked, 

i His prostrate form all gorgeously with tattered blooms 
bedecked. 
"Alas!" I said, "no power on earth your glory can 

recall ! 
Did you not know, dear sunflower, that pride must 
have a fall?" 

I raised him up and bore him in, and, ere he faded 

quite, 
In the corner he stood splendid awhile for our delight ; 
But his humbler, single brethren, in the garden, every 

one, 
With shining disks and golden rays stayed gazing at 

the sun. 

m THE BLACK FOREST 

Up through the great Black Forest, 

So wild and wonderful, 
We climbed in the autumn afternoon 

'Mid the shadows deep and cool. 



I 



184 IN THE BLACK FOREST 

We climbed to the Grand Duke's castle 

That stood on the airy height; 
Above the leagues of pine-trees dark 

It shone in the yellow light. 

We saw how the peasant women 

Were toiling along the way, 
In open spaces here and there, 

That steeped in the sunshine lay. 

They gathered the autumn harvest — 
All toil-worn and weather-browned; 

They gathered the roots they had planted in spring 
And piled them up on the ground. 

We heard the laughter of children. 

And merrily down the road 
Kan little Max with a rattling cart, 

Heaped up with a heavy load. 



Upon orange carrots, and beets so red. 
And turnips smooth and white. 

With leaves of green all packed between, 
Sat the little Rosel bright. 

Around the edge of her wee white cap 
The wind blew out her curls — 



IN THE BLACK FOEEST 185 

A sweeter face I have never seen 
Than this happy little girl's. 

A spray of the carrot's foliage fine, 

Soft as a feather of green, 
Drooped over her head from behind her ear 

As proud as the plume of a queen. 

Light was his burden to merry Max, 

With Eosel perched above, 
And he gazed at her on that humble throne 

With eyes of pride and love. 

With joyful laughter they passed us by, 

As up through the forest of pine, 
So solemn and still, we made our way 

To the castle of Eberstein. 

Oh, vast and dim and beautiful 

Were the dark woods' shadowy aisles, 

And all their silent depths seemed lit 
With the children's golden smiles. 

Oh, lofty the Grand Duke's castle 

That looked o'er the forest gloom; 
But better I love to remember 

The children's rosy bloom. 



186 AN OLD SAW 

And sweet is the picture I brought away 
From the wild Black Eorest shade, 

Of proud and happy and merry Max, 
And Eosel, the little maid. 



AN OLD SAW 

A DEAR little maid came skipping out 
In the glad new day, Avith a merry shout; 
With dancing feet and flying hair 
She sang with joy in the morning air. 

"Don't sing before breakfast , you 'II cry before 

night ! " 
What a croak, to darken the child's delight! 
And the stupid old nurse, again and again, 
Repeated the ancient, dull refrain. 

The child paused, trying to understand; 
But her eyes saw the great world rainbow- spanned: 
Her light little feet hardly touched the earth. 
And her soul brimmed over with innocent mirth. 

"Never mind, — don't listen, sweet little maid! 
Make sure of your morning song," I said; 
"And if pain must meet you, why, all the more 
Be glad of the rapture that came before." 



CRADLE SONG 187 



CEADLE SONG 



In the winged cradle of sleep I lay 

My darling gently down; 
Kissed and closed are his eyes of gray, 

Under his curls' bright crown. 



"&' 



Where, oh, where, will he fly and float. 

In the winged cradle of sleep 1 
Whom will he meet in the worlds remote, 

While he slumbers soft and deep ? 

Warm and sweet as a white blush rose, 

His small hand lies in mine. 
But I cannot follow him where he goes, 

And he gives no word nor sign. 

Keep him safe, ye heavenly powers. 

In dreamland vast and dim, 
Let no ill, through the night's long hours. 

Come nigh to trouble him. 

Give him back, when the dawn shall break, 
With his matchless baby charms. 

With his love and his beauty all awake. 
Into my happy arms! 



188 MARJORIE 



MAEJORIE 



Marjoeie hides in the deep, sweet grass; 

Purple its tops bend over; 
Softly and warmly the breezes pass, 

And bring her the scent of the clover. 

Butterflies flit, and the banded bee 

Booms in the air above her; 
Green and golden lady-bugs three 

Marjorie's nest discover. 

Up to the top of the grass so tall 
Creep they while Marjorie gazes; 

Blows the wind suddenly, — down they fall 
Into the disks of the daisies! 

Brown- eyed Marjorie! Who, do you think, 

Sings in the sun so loudly 1 
Marjorie smiles. " 'T is the bobolink, 

Caroling gayly and proudly." 

Bright-locked Marjorie ! What floats down 
Through the golden air, and lingers 

Light on your head as a cloudy crown, 
Pink as your rosy fingers? 



KING MIDAS 189 

Apple-blossoms ! " she laughing cries, 

"Beautiful boats come sailing 
Out of the branches held up to the skies, 

Over the orchard railing." 

Happy, sweet Marjorie, hidden away. 

Birds, butterflies, bees above her; 
With flowers and perfumes, and lady-bugs gay; 

Everything seems to love her! 



KING MIDAS 

Heard you, little children, 

This wonderful story told 
Of the Phrygian king whose fatal touch 

Turned everything to gold? 

In a great, dim, dreary chamber. 

Beneath the palace floor, 
He counted his treasures of glittering coin, 

And he always longed for more. 

When the clouds in the blaze of sunset 

Burned flaming fold on fold. 
He thought how fine a thing 't would be 

Were they but real gold! 



190 KING MIDAS 

And when his dear little daughter, 

The child he loved so well, 
Came bringing in from the pleasant fields 

The yellow asphodel. 

Or buttercups from the meadow. 

Or dandelions gay. 
King Midas would look at the blossoms sweet, 

And she would hear him say, — 

"If only the flowers were really 
Golden as they appear, 
'T were worth your while to gather them, 
My little daughter dear ! " 

One day in the dim, drear chamber, 

As he counted his treasure o'er, 
A sunbeam slipped through a chink in the wall 

And quivered down to the floor. 

"Would it were gold," he muttered, 
"That broad bright yellow bar! " 
Suddenly stood in its mellow light, 
A figure bright as a star. 

Young and ruddy and glorious. 

With face as fresh as the day, 
With a winged cap and winged heels, 

And eyes both wise and gay. 



KING MIDAS 191 

"Oh, have your wish, King Midas," 
A heavenly voice begun, 
Like all sweet notes of the morning 
Braided and blended in one. 

"And when to-morrow's sunrise 
Wakes you with rosy fire. 
All things you touch shall turn to gold, 
Even as you desire." 

King Midas slept. The morning 

At last stole up the sky. 
And woke him, full of eagerness 

The wondrous spell to try. 

And lo! the bed 's fine draperies 

Of linen fair and cool, 
Of quilted satin and cobweb lace. 

And blankets of snowy wool. 

All had been changed with the sun's first ray 

To marvelous cloth of gold. 
That rippled and shimmered as soft as silk 

In many a gorgeous fold. 

But all this splendor weighed so much 

'T was irksome to the king, 
And up he sprang to try at once 

The touch on everything. 



192 KING MIDAS 

The heavy tassel that he grasped 

Magnificent became, 
And hung by the purple curtain rich 

Like a glowing mass of flame. 

At every step, on every side, 

Such splendor followed him, 
The very sunbeams seemed to pale, 

And morn itself grow dim. 

But when he came to the water 

For his delicious bath, 
And dipped his hand in the surface smooth, 

He started in sudden wrath; 

For the liquid, light and leaping, 

So crystal- bright and clear. 
Grew a solid lake of heavy gold, 

And the king began to fear! 

But out he went to the garden, 
So fresh in the morning hour. 

And a thousand buds in the balmy night 
Had burst into perfect flower. 

'T was a world of perfume and color, 
Of tender and delicate bloom. 

But only the hideous thirst for wealth 
In the king's heart found room. 



KING MIDAS 193 

He passed like a spirit of autumn 

Through that fair space of bloom, 
And the leaves and the flowers grew yellow 

In a dull and senseless gloom. 

Back to the lofty palace 

Went the glad monarch then, 
And sat at his sumptuous breakfast, 

Most fortunate of men ! 

He broke the fine, white wheaten roil, 

The light and wholesome bread, 
And it turned to a lump of metal rich — 

It had as well been lead! 

Again did fear assail the king, 

When — what was this he heard 1 
The voice of his little daughter dear, 

As sweet as a grieving bird. 

Sobbing she stood before him, 

And a golden rose held she. 
And the tears that brimmed her blue, blue eyes 

Were pitiful to see. 

"Father! father dearest! 

This dreadful thing — oh, see ! 
Oh, what has happened to all the flowers ? 
Tell me, what can it be 1 " 



194 KING MIDAS 

"Why should you cry, my daughter? 
Are not these blossoms of gold 
Beautiful, precious, and wonderful. 
With splendor not to be told 1 " 

" I hate them, my father ! 

They 're stiff and hard and dead, 

That were so sweet and soft and fair, 

And blushed so warm and red." 



"Come here," he cried, "my darling," 
And bent, her cheek to kiss, 
To comfort her — when — Heavenly Powers ! 
What fearful thing was this 1 



1 



'O 



He sank back, shuddering and aghast, 
But she stood still as death — 

A statue of horrible gleaming gold, 
With neither motion nor breath. 

The gold tears hardened on her cheek. 

The gold rose in her hand, 
Even her little sandals changed 

To gold, where she did stand. 

Then such a tumult of despair 
The wretched king possessed, 

He wrung his hands, and tore his hair. 
And sobbed, and beat his breast. 



KING MIDAS 195 

Weighed with one look from her sweet eyes 
What was the whole world worth? 

Against one touch of her loving lips, 
The treasure of all the earth? 

Then came that voice, like music, 
As fresh as the morning air, 
"How is it with you, King Midas, 
Eich in your answered prayer ? " 

And there, in the sunshine smiling, 

Majestic as before, 
Euddy and young and glorious. 

The Stranger stood once more. 

"Take back your gift so terrible! 
No blessing, but a curse! 
One loving heart more precious is 
Than the gold of the universe. '^ 

The Stranger listened — a sweeter smile 
Kindled his grave, bright eyes. 
" Glad am I, King Midas, 

That you have grown so wise! 

"Again your wish is granted; 
More swiftly than before. 
All you have harmed with the fatal touch 
You shall again restore." 



196 WILD GEESE 

He clasped his little daughter — 

Oh, joy ! — within his arms 
She trembled back to her human self, 

With all her human charms. 

Across her face he saw the life 

Beneath his kiss begin, 
And steal to the charming dimple deep 

Upon her lovely chin. 

Again her eyes grew blue and clear, 

Again her cheek flushed red; 
She locked her arms about his neck, 

" My father dear ! " she said. 

Oh, happy was King Midas, 

Against his heart to hold 
His treasure of love, more precious 

Than a thousand worlds of gold ! 

WILD GEESE 

The wind blows, the sun shines, the birds sing loud. 
The blue, blue sky is flecked with fleecy dappled cloud, 
Over earth's rejoicing fields the children dance and 

sing, 
And the frogs pipe in chorus, "It is spring! It is 

spring ! " 



THE HYLAS 197 

The grass comes, the flower laughs where lately lay 

the snow, 
O'er the breezy hill- top hoarsely calls the crow, 
By the flowing river the alder catkins swing. 
And the sweet song sparrow cries, "Spring! It is 

spring ! " 

Hark, what a clamor goes winging through the sky ! 
Look, children! Listen to the sound so wild and 

high ! 
Like a peal of broken bells, — kling, klang, kling, — 
Far and high the wild geese cry, "Spring! It is 

spring ! " 

Bear the winter off" with you, wild geese dear ! 

Carry all the cold away, far away from here; 

Chase the snow into the north, strong of heart and 

wing, 
While we share the robin's rapture, crying, "Spring! 

It is spring ! " 



THE HYLAS 

In the crimson sunsets of the spring. 

Children, have you heard the hylas pipe, 

Ere with robin's note the meadows ring, 
Ere the silver willow buds are ripe ? 



198 THE HYLAS 

Long before the swallow dares appear, 

When the April weather frees the brooks, 

Sweet and high a liquid note you hear. 
Sounding clear at eve from wooded nooks. 

'T is the hylas. " What are hylas, pray ? " 
Do you ask me, little children sweet? 

They are tree-toads, brown and green and gray, 
Small and slender, dusky, light, and fleet. 

All the winter long they hide and sleep 
In the dark earth's bosom, safe and fast; 

When the sunshine finds them, up they leap, 
Glad to feel that spring is come at last. 

Glad and grateful, up the trees they climb. 
Pour their cheerful music on the air, 

Crying, "Here 's an end of snow and rime! 
Beauty is beginning everywhere ! " 

Listen, children, for so sweet a cry! 

Listen till you hear the hylas sing, 
Ere the first star glitters in the sky, 

In the crimson sunsets of the spring. 



THE SPARROWS 199 

THE SPAEROWS 
[die spurver] 

In the far-off land of Norway, 

Where the winter lingers late, 
And long for the singing-birds and flowers 

The little children wait; 

When at last the summer ripens 

And the harvest is gathered in, 
And food for the bleak, drear days to come 

The toiling people win; 

Through all the land the children 

In the golden fields remain 
Till their busy little hands have gleaned 

A generous sheaf of grain; 

All the stalks by the reapers forgotten 

They glean to the very least, 
To save till the cold December, 

For the sparrows' Christmas feast. 

And then through the frost-locked country 

There happens a wonderful thing: 
The sparrows flock north, south, east, west, 

For the children's offering. 



200 THE SPARROWS 

Of a sudden, the day before Christmas, 

The twittering crowds arrive, 
And the bitter, wintry air at once 

With their chirping is all alive. 

They perch upon roof and gable, 

On porch and fence and tree. 
They flutter about the windows 

And peer in curiously. 

And meet the eyes of the children, 

"Who eagerly look out 
With cheeks that bloom like roses red. 

And greet them with welcoming shout. 

On the joyous Christmas morning, 

In front of every door 
A tall pole, crowned with clustering grain, 

Is set the birds before. 

And whicli are the happiest, truly 

It would be hard to tell ; 
The sparrows who share in the Christmas cheer, 

Or the children who love them well! 

How sweet that they should remember. 

With faith so full and sure. 
That the children's bounty awaited them 

The whole wide country o'er! 



THE NIGHTINGALE 201 

When this pretty story was told me 
By one who had helped to rear 

The rustling grain for the merry birds 
In Norway, many a year, 

I thought that our little children 

Would like to know it too, 
It seems to me so beautiful, 

So blessed a thing to do, 

To make God's innocent creatures see 

In every child a friend. 
And on our faithful kindness 

So fearlessly depend. 

THE NIGHTINGALE 

There is a bird, a plain, brown bird, 

That dwells in lands afar. 
Whose wild, delicious song is heard 

With evening's first white star. 

When, dewy-fresh and still, the night 

Steals to the waiting world. 
And the new moon glitters silver bright, 

And the fluttering winds are furled; 

When the balm of summer is in the air, 
And the deep rose breathes of musk. 



202 THE NIGHTINGALE 

And there comes a waft of blossoms fair 
Through the enchanted dusk ; 

Then breaks the silence a heavenly strain, 

And thrills the quiet night 
With a rich and wonderful refrain, 

A rapture of delight. 

All listeners that rare music hail, 

All whisper softly : " Hark ! 
It is the matchless nightingale 

Sweet singing in the dark." > 

He has no pride of feathers fine; 

Unconscious, too, is he, 
That welcomed as a thing divine 

Is his clear minstrelsy. 

But from the fullness of his heart 

His happy carol pours ; 
Beyond all praise, above all art, 

His song to heaven soars. 

And through the whole wide world his fame 

Is sounded far and near; 
Men love to speak his very name 

That brown bird is so dear. 



GOLD LOCKS AND SILVER LOCKS 203 



GOLD LOCKS A^D SILVER LOCKS 

Pupil and master together, 
The wise man and the child, 
Merrily talking and laughing 
Under the lamplight mild. 

Pupil and master together, 

A fair sight to behold, 

With his thronging locks of silver 

And her tresses of ruddy gold. 

"Well, little girl, did you practice 
On the violin to-day 1 
What is the air I gave you ? 
Have you forgotten, pray ? " 

And he sings a few notes and j^auses, 
Half frowning to see her stand 
Perplexed, with her white brows knitted, 
And her chin upon her hand. 

Far off in the street of a sudden 
Comes the sound of a wandering band, 
And the blare of brass rings faintly. 
Too distant to understand. 



204 GOLD LOCKS AND SILVER LOCKS 

" Hark ! " says the master, smiling, 

Bending his head to hear, 
"In what key are they playing? 

Can you tell me that, my dear? 

"Is it D minor? Try it! 
To the piano and try ! " 
She strikes it, the sweet sound answers 
Her touch so light and shy. 

And swift as steel to magnet, 
The far tones and the near 
Unite and are blended together 
Smoothly upon the ear. 

I thought, if one had the power. 
What a beautiful thing 'twould be, 
Hearing Life's manifold music. 
To strike in one's self the key; 

Whether joyful or sorry, to answer, 
As wind-harps answer the air. 
And solve by simple submission 
Its riddles of trouble and care. 

But the little maid knew nothing 
Of thoughts so grave and wise, 
As she stole again to her teacher, 
And lifted her merry eyes. 



THE KITTIAVAKES 205 

And neither dreamed what a picture 
They made, the young and the old, — 
With his thronging locks of silver, 
And her tresses of ruddy gold. 



THE KITTIWAKES 

Like white feathers blown about the rocks, 
Like soft snowflakes wavering in the air, 

Wheel the Kittiwakes in scattered flocks, 
Crying, floating, fluttering everywhere. 

Shapes of snow and cloud, they soar and whirl: 
Downy breasts that shine like lilies white; 

Delicate vaporous tints of gray and pearl 
Laid upon their arching wings so light. 

Eyes of jet, and beaks and feet of gold, — 
Lovelier creatures never sailed in air; 

Innocent, inquisitive, and bold. 

Knowing not the dangers that they dare. 

Stooping now above a beckoning hand. 

Following gleams of waving kerchiefs white. 

What should they of evil understand. 

Though the gun awaits them full in sight? 



206 LOST 

Though their blood the quiet wave makes red, 
Though their broken plumes float far and wide, 

Still they linger, hovering overhead, 
Still the gun deals death on every side. 

Oh, begone, sweet birds, or higher soar! 

See you not your comrades low are laid? 
But they only flit and call the more, — 

Ignorant, unconscious, undismayed. 

Nay, then, boatman, spare them ! Must they bear 
Pangs like these for human vanity ? 

That their lovely plumage we may wear 
Must these fair, pathetic creatures die? 

Let the tawny squaws themselves admire, 
Decked with feathers, — we can wiser be. 

I beseech you, boatman, do not fire ! 

Stain no more with blood the tranquil sea. 



LOST 

" Lock the dairy door ! " Oh, hark, the cock is crow 

ing proudly ! 
" Lock the dairy door ! " and all the hens are cackling 

loudly : 



LOST 207 

'■ Chickle^ chackle, chee,^^ they cry; ^^we havetiH got 

the key,^^ they cry; 
' Chickle, chackle^ cliee ! Oh deavj wherever can 

it he ! '' they cry. 

Up and down the garden walks Avhere all the flowers 

■ are blowing, 

lOut . about the golden fields where tall the wheat is 

growing, 
Through the barn and up the road they cackle and 

they chatter: 
Cry the children, "Hear the hens! Why, Avhat can 

be the matter ? " 

What scraping and what scratching, what bristling and 

what hustling; 
The cock stands on the fence, the wind his ruddy 

plumage rustling; 
Like a soldier grand he stands, and like a trumpet 

glorious 
Sounds his shout both far and near, imperious and 

victorious. 

But to Partlets down below, who cannot find the key, 

they hear, 
'"''Lock the dairy door ! ^^ That's all his challenge 

says to them, my dear. 



208 THE KINGFISHER 

Why they had it, how they lost it, must remain a 
mystery ; 

I that tell you never heard the first part of the his- 
tory. 

But if you will listen, dear, next time the cock crows 

proudly, 
^^ Lock the dairy door ! ^^ you'll hear him tell the 

biddies loudly: 
^^ Chickle, chackle, chee^^^ they cry; "we haven^' 

got the key ! " they cry ; 
" ChickUj chackle, chee ! Oh dear, wherever can*\ 

be ! " they cry. 

THE KINGFISHER 

Could you have heard the kingfisher scream and scolc 

at me 
When I went this morning early down to the smiling 

sea! 
He clamored so loud and harshly, I laughed at him for 

his pains, 
And off he flew with a shattered note, like the sound 

of falling chains. 

He perched on the rock above me, and kept up such 
a din, 



THE KINGFISHER 209 

He looked so fine with his collar snow-white beneath 

his chin, 
And his cap of velvet, black and bright, and his jacket 

of lovely blue, 
I looked, admired, and called to him, " Good-morning ! 

How do you do? " 

But his kingship was so offended! He hadn't a 
pleasant word, 

Only the crossest jargon ever screamed by a bird. 

The gray sandpiper on one leg stood still in sheer sur- 
prise, 

And gazed at me, and gazed at him, with shining bead- 
black eyes, 

And pensively sent up so sweet and delicate a note, 
Ringing so high and clear from out her dainty, mottled 

throat, 
That echo round the silent shore caught up the clear 

refrain, 
'And sent the charming music back again, and yet 

again. 

Then the brown song sparrow on the wall made haste 

with such a song, 
' To try and drown that jarring din! but it was all too 
strong. 



210 THE WOUNDED CURLEW 

And the swallows, like a steel-blue flash, swept past 

and cried aloud, 
"Be civil, my dear kingfisher, you're far too grand 

and proud." 

But it was n't of any use at all, he was too much dis- 
pleased, 

For only by my absence could his anger be appeased. 

So I wandered off, and as I went I saw him flutter 
down, 

And take his place once more upon the seaweed wet 
and brown. 

And there he watched for his breakfast, all undis- 
turbed at last, 

And many a little fish he caught as it was swimming 
past. 

And I forgot his harsh abuse, for, up in the tall elm- 
tree, 

A purple finch sat high and sang a heavenly song for 
me. 

THE WOUNDED CUKLEW 

By yonder sandy cove where, every day, 

The tide flows in and out, 
A lonely bird in sober brown and gray 

Limps patiently about; 



THE WOUNDED CURLEW 211 

And round the basin's edge, o'er stones and sand, 

And many a fringing weed. 
He steals, or on the rocky ledge doth stand. 

Crying, with none to heed. 

But sometimes from the distance he can hear 

His comrades' swift reply; 
Sometimes the air rings with their music clear, 

Sounding from sea and sky. 

And then, oh, then his tender voice, so sweet, 

Is shaken with his pain, 
For broken are his pinions strong and fleet, 

Never to soar again. 

Wounded and lame and languishing he lives, 

Once glad and blithe and free. 
And in his prison limits frets and strives 

His ancient self to be. 

The little sandpipers about him play, 

The shining waves they skim, 
Or round his feet they seek their food, and stay 

As if to comfort him. 

My pity cannot help him, though his plaint 

Brings tears of wistfulness; 
Still must he grieve and mourn, forlorn and faint. 

None may his wrong redress. 



212 LITTLE ASSUNTA 

bright-eyed boy ! was there no better way 

A moment's joy to gain 
Than to make sorrow that must mar the day 

With such despairing pain? 

children, drop the gun, the cruel stone ! 

Oh, listen to my words, 
And hear with me the wounded curlew moan 

Have mercy on the birds! 



LITTLE ASSUNTA 

Climbing the Pincian Hill's long slope, 

When the west was bright with a crimson flame, 

Her small face glowing with life and hope, 
Little Assunta singing came. 

From under ilex and olive-tree, 

I gazed afar to St. Peter's dome; 
Below, for a wondering world to see, 

Lay the ruined glories of ancient E-ome. 

i 

Sunset was sorrowing over the land, 

O'er the splendid fountains that leaped in the air, 
O'er crumbling tower and temple grand. 

Palace, and column, and statue fair. 



LITTLE ASSUNTA 213 

Little Assunta climbed the steep; 

She was a lovely sight to see ! 
A tint in her olive cheek as deep 

As the wild red Eoman anemone. 

Dark as midnight her braided hair 
Over her fathomless eyes of brown; 

And over her tresses the graceful square 
Of snow-white linen was folded down. 

Her quaint black bodice was laced behind; 

Her apron was barred with dull rich hues; 
Like the ripe pomegranate's tawny rind 

Her little gown; and she wore no shoes. 

But round her dusk throat's slender grace, 
Large, smooth, coral beads were wound; 

Like a flower herself in that solemn place 

She seemed, just blooming out of the ground. 

Up she came, as she walked on air! 

I wandered downward with footsteps slow, 
Till we met in the midst of the pathway fair, 

Bathed in the mournful sunset's glow. 

"Buon giorno, Signora!" ^ she said; 

Like a wild-bird's note was her greeting clear. 
1 Good-morning, lady. 



214 INHOSPITALITY , 

"Salve! "^ I answered, "my little maid; 

But 'tis evening, and not good-morning, dear!" 



She stretched her hands with a smile like light, 

As if she offered me, joyfully. 
Some precious gift, with that aspect hright, 

And "Buon giorno!" again sang she. 

And so she passed me and upward pressed 

Under ilex and olive-tree. 
While the flush of sunset died in the west. 

And the shadows of twilight folded me. 

She carried the morn in her shining eyes! 

Evening was mine, and the night to be ; 
But she stirred my heart with the dawn's surprise, 

And left me a beautiful memory ! 



INHOSPITALITY 

Down on the north wind sweeping 
Comes the storm with roaring din; 

Sadly, with dreary tumult, 
The twilight gathers in. 

1 A term of salutation, pronounced " Salv^," and meaning " Hail 
or "^Velcome! " 



I 



INHOSPITALITY 215 

The snow- covered little island 

Is white as a frosted cake; 
And round and round it the billows 

Bellow, and thunder, and break. 

Within doors the blazing driftwood 

Is glowing, ruddy and warm, 
And happiness sits at the fireside, 

Watching the raging storm. 

What fluttered past the window. 
All weary and wet and weak, 
-With the heavily drooping pinions, 
And the wicked, crooked beak? 

Cries the little sister, watching, 

"Whither now can he flee? 
Black through the whirling snowflakes 

Glooms the awful face of the sea; 

"And tossed and torn by the tempest, 

He must sink in the bitter brine ! 

Why could n't we pity and save him 

Till the sun again should shine ? '' 

They drew her back to the fireside. 
And laughed at her cloudy eyes, — 
"What, mourn for that robber- fellow, 
The crudest bird that flies ! 



216 INHOSPITALITY 

" Your song sparrow hardly would thank you, 
And which is the dearest, pray 1 " 
But she heard at the doors and windows 
The lashing of the spray ; 

And as ever the shock of the breakers 

The heart of their quiet stirred, 
She thought, "Oh, would we had sheltered him, 

The poor, unhappy bird ! " 

Where the boats before the house-door 

Are drawn up from the tide, 
On the tallest prow he settles, 

And furls his wings so wide. 

UiH'ises the elder brother. 
Uprises the sister too; 
"]LSray, brother, he comes for shelter! 
Spare him! What would you do? " 

He laughs and is gone for his rifle. 

And steadily takes his aim ; 
But the wild wind seizes his yellow beard, 

And blows it about like flame. 

Into his eyes the snow sifts. 

Till he cannot see aright: 
Ah, the cruel gun is bafiled ! 

And the weary hawk takes flight; 



UNDER THE LIGHT-HOUSE 217 

And slowly up he circles, 

Higher and higher still; 
The fierce Avind catches and bears him away 

O'er the bleak crest of the hill. 



Ill UNDEE THE LIGHT-HOUSE 

Beneath the tall, white light-house strayed the chil- 
dren, 

In the May morning sweet; 
About the steep and rough gray rocks they wandered 

With hesitating feet; 
For scattered far and wide the birds were lying, 

Quiet, and cold, and dead. 
That met, while they were swiftly winging northward, 
M The fierce light overhead; 
And as the frail moths in the summer evenings 

Fly to the candle's blaze, 
Eushed wildly at the splendor, finding only 

Death in those blinding rays. 
And here were bobolink, and wren, and sparrow, 

Veery, and oriole, 
And purple finch, and rosy grosbeak, swallows. 

And kingbirds quaint and droll; 
Gay soldier blackbirds, wearing on their shoulders 

Bed, gold-edged epaulets, 
And many a homely brown, red-breasted robin. 

Whose voice no child forgets. 



I 



218 UNDER THE LIGHT-HOUSE 

And yellow-birds — what shapes of perfect beauty ! 

What silence after song! 
And mingled with them, unfamiliar warblers 

That to far Avoods belong. 
Clothing the gray^ rocks with a mournful beauty 

By scores the dead forms lay, 
That, dashed against the tall tower's cruel windows, 

Dropped like the spent sea spray. 
How many an old and sun-steeped barn, far inland, 

Should miss about its eaves 
The twitter and the gleam of these swift swallows ! 

And, swinging 'mid the leaves. 
The oriole's nest, all empty in the elm-tree, 

Would cold and silent be. 
And nevermore these robins make the meadows 

Ring with their ecstasy. 
Would not the gay swamp-border miss the blackbirds. 

Whistling so loud and clear? 
Would not the bobolinks' delicious music 

Lose something of its cheer ? 
"Yet," thought the wistful children, gazing landward, 

"The birds will not be missed; 
Others will take their place in field and forest. 

Others will keep their tryst : 
And we, we only, know how death has met them ; 

We wonder and we mourn 
That from their innocent and bright existence 

Thus roughly they are torn." 



T UNDER THE LIGHT-HOUSE 219 

And so they laid the sweet, dead shapes together, 

Smoothing each ruffled wing, 
Perplexed and sorrowful, and pondering deeply 

The meaning of this thing. 
(Too hard to fathom for the wisest nature 

Crowned with the snows of age !) 
And all the beauty of the fair May morning 

Seemed like a blotted page. 
They bore them down from the rough cliffs of granite 

To where the grass grew green, 
And laid them 'neath the soft turf, all together, 

With many a flower between ; 
And, looking up with wet eyes, saw how brightly 

Upon the summer sea 
Lay the clear sunlight, how white sails were shining, 

And small waves laughed in glee : 
And somehow, comfort grew to check their grieving, 

A sense of brooding care. 
As if, in spite of death, a loving presence 

Tilled all the viewless air. 
"What should we fear?" whispered the little children, 

" There is no thing so small 
But God will care for it in earth or heaven: 

He sees the sparrows fall ! " 



220 PICCOLA 



PICCOLA 



Poor, sweet Piccola! Did you hear 
What happened to Piccola, children dear? 
'T is seldom Fortune such favor grants 
As fell to this little maid of Prance. 

'T was Christmas- time, and her parents poor 
Could hardly drive the wolf from the door, 
Striving with poverty's patient pain 
Only to live till summer again. 

No gifts for Piccola ! Sad were they 
When dawned the morning of Christmas-day ; 
Their little darling no joy might stir, 
St. Nicholas nothing would bring to her! 

But Piccola never doubted at all 
That something beautiful must befall 
Every child upon Christmas-day, 
And so she slept till the dawn was gray. 

And full of faith, when at last she woke. 
She stole to her shoe as the morning broke ; 
Such sounds of gladness filled all the air, 
'T was plain St. Nicholas had been there! 



MOZART AT THE FIRESIDE 221 

In rushed Piccola sweet, half wild: 
Never was seen such a joyful child. 
" See what the good saint brought ! " she cried, 
And mother and father must peep inside. 

Now such a story who ever heard? 
There was a little shivering bird! 
A s^^arrow, that in at the window flew, 
Had crept into Piccola's tiny shoe! 

"How good poor Piccola must have been! '^ 
She cried, as happy as any queen, 
AVhile the starving sparrow she fed and warmed, 
And danced with rapture, she was so charmed. 

Children, this story I tell to you. 
Of Piccola sweet and her bird, is true. 
In the far-off land of France, they say, 
Still do they live to this very day. 



MOZART AT THE PIRESIDE 

Autumn nights grow chilly : 

See how faces bloom 
By the cheerful firelight, 

In the quiet room! 



222 MOZART AT THE FIRESIDE 

Mother's amber necklace, 

Father's beard of gold, 
E-osy cheeks of little boys 

All glowing from the cold, 

Basket heaped with barberries, 

Coral red and bright. 
Little Silver's shaggy fur 

All shining in the light! 

Barberries bright they 're picking, 
And smile and do not speak; 

Happy little youngest boy 
Kisses mother's cheek, — 

First mother's and then father's. 
And nestles his pretty head 

In the shining fur of Silver, 

While they pick the barberries red. 

At the piano sitting, 

One touches the beautiful keys; 
Silent they sit and listen 

To magical melodies. 

Heavenly, tender, and hopeful. 
Balm for the saddest heart, 

Rises the lovely music 
Of the divine Mozart! 



MOZART AT THE FIRESIDE 223 

The cliildren hear the birds sing, 

And the voices of the May; 
They feel the freshness of morning, 

Before the toil of the day; 

But father and mother listen 

To a deeper undertone, 
A strong arm, full of comfort, seems 

About life's trouble thrown. 

children, when your summer 

Passes, and winter is near. 
When the sky is dim that was so bright, 

And the way seems long and drear. 

Remember the mighty master 

Still touches the human heart, 
Speaking afar from heaven, 

The wonderful Mozart! 

He can bring back your childhood 

With his strains of airy grace. 
Till life seems fresh and beautiful 

Again for a little space. 

With voices of lofty sweetness 

He shall encourage you. 
Till all good things seem possible, 

And Heaven's best promise true; 



224 THE FLOCK OF DOVES 

Till health and strength and loveliness 
Blossom from stone and clod, 

And the sad old world grows bright again 
With the cheerfulness of God. 



THE FLOCK OF DOVES 

The world was like a wilderness 

Of soft and downy snow ; 
The trees were plumed with feathery flakes, 

And the ground was white below. 

Came the little mother out to the gate 
To watch for her children three; 

Her hood was red as a poppy-flower, 
And rosy and young was she. 

She took the snow in her cunning hands. 

As waiting she stood alone, 
And lo ! in a moment, beneath her touch, 

A fair white dove had grown. 

A flock she wrought, and on the fence 

Set them in bright array, 
AVith folded wings, or pinions spread, 

Eeady to fly away. 



THE KAISERBLUMEN 225 

And then she hid by the pine-tree tall, 
For the children's tones rang sweet, 

As home from school, through the drifts so light, 
They sped with merry feet. 

" Nannie, Nannie ! See the fence 

Alive with doves so white ! " 
"Oh, hush! don't frighten them away!" 

They whisper with delight. 

They crept so soft, they crept so still, 

The wondrous sight to see. 
The little mother pushed the gate, 

And laughed out joyfully. 

She clasped them close, she kissed their cheeks, 
And lips so sweet and red. 
**The birds are only made of snow! 
You are my doves," she said. 



THE KAISEEBLUMEN 

Have you heard of the Kaiserblume, 

little children sweet. 
That grows in the fields of Germany, 

Light waving among the wheat? 



226 THE KAISERBLUMEN 

'T is only a simple flower, 
But were I to try all day, 

Its grace and charm and beauty 
I couldn't begin to say. 

By field and wood and roadside, 
Delicate, hardy, and bold, 

It scatters in wild profusion 
Its blossoms manifold. 

The children love it dearly. 

And with dancing feet they go 

To seek it with song and laughter; 
And all the people know 

Stern Kaiser Wilhelm loves it: 
He said, " It shall honored be, 

Henceforth 'tis the Kaiserblume, 
The flower of Germany." 

Then he bade his soldiers wear it. 

Tied in a gay cockade, 
And the quaint and humble blossom 

His royal token made. 

Said little Hans to Gretchen, 
One summer morning fair, 

As they played in the fields together, 
And sang in the fragrant air: 



THE KAISERBLUMEN 227 

'Oh, look at the Kaiserblumen 

That grow in the grass so thick! 
Let's gather our arms full, Gretchen, 

And take to the Emperor, quick! 

Tor never were any so beautiful, 

Waving so blue and bright." 
So all they could carry they gathered. 

Dancing with their delight. 

Then under the blazing sunshine 

They trudged o'er the long, white road 

That led to the Kaiser's palace, 
With their gayly nodding load. 

But long ere the streets of the city 

They trod with their little feet, 
As hot they grew and as tired 

As their corn-flowers bright and sweet. 

And Gretchen' s cheeks were rosy 

With a weary travel stain. 
And her tangled hair o'er her blue, blue eyes 

Fell down in a golden rain. 

And at last all the nodding blossoms 
Their shining heads hung down; 

But, "Cheer up, Gretchen!" cried little Hans, 
"We 've almost reached the town. 



228 THE KAISERBLUMEN 

"We '11 knock at the door of the palace, 
And won't he be glad to see 
The flowers we 've brought so far for him? 
Think, Gretchen, how pleased he '11 be! '^ 

So they plodded patiently onward, 
And with hands so soft and small 

They knocked at the palace portal, 
And sweetly did cry and call: 

^'Please open the door, Kaiser! 

We 've brought some flowers for you, 
Our arms full of Kaiserblumen, 
All gay and bright and blue ! " 

But nobody heeded or answered. 

Till at last a soldier grand 
Bade the weary wanderers leave the gate. 

With a gruff" and stern command. 

But, "No!" cried the children, weeping; 

Though trembling and sore afraid. 
And clasping their faded flowers, 
" We must come in ! " they said. 

A lofty and splendid presence 
The echoing stair came down; 

To know the king there was no need 
That he should wear a crown. 



THE KAISERBLUMEN 229 

And the children cried: "0 Kaiser, 
We have brought your flowers so far! 

And we are so tired and hungry ! 
See, Emperor, here they are ! " 

They hekl up their withered posies. 

While into the Emperor's face 
A beautiful light came stealing, 

And he stooped with a stately grace; 

Taking the ruined blossoms, 

With gentle words and mild 
He comforted with kindness 

The heart of each trembling child. 

And that was a wonderful glory 

That the little ones befell ! 
And when their heads are hoary. 

They still will the story tell. 

How they sat at the Kaiser's table. 
And dined with princes and kings, 

In that far-off day of splendor, 
Filled full of marvelous things ! 

And home, when the sun was setting, 

The happy twain were sent. 
In a gleaming golden carriage, 

With horses magnificent. 



230 THE GREAT BLUE HERON 

And like the ^Yildest vision 

Of fairy-land it seemed; 
Hardly could Hans and Gretchen 

Believe they had not dreamed. 

And even their children's children 

Eager to hear will be, 
How they carried to Kaiser Wilhelni 

The flowers of Germany. 

THE GREAT BLUE HEEON 

A WARNING 

The great blue heron stood all alone 
By the edge of the solemn sea 

On a broken boulder of gray trap stone; 
He was lost in a reverie. 

And when I climbed the low rough wall 
At the top of the sloping beach, 

To gather the driftwood great and small, 
Left scattered to dry and bleach, 

I saw as if carved from the broken block 
On which he was standing, the bird 

Like a part of the boulder of blue-gray rock, 
For never a feather he stirred. 



THE GREAT BLUE HERON 231 

I paused to watch him. Below my breath 

"0 beautiful creature," I cried, 
"Do you know you are standing here close to your 
death. 

By the brink of the quiet tide! 

"You cannot know of the being called Man! 

The lord of creation is he, 
And he slays all earth's creatures wherever he can 

In the air or the land or the sea. 

"He 's not a hospitable friend! If he sees 

Some wonderful, beautiful thing 
That runs in the woodland, or floats in the breeze 

On the bannerlike breadth of its wing, 

" Straight he goes for his gun, its sweet life to destroy. 

For mere pleasure of killing alone 
He will ruin its beauty and quench all its joy 

Though 'tis useless to him as a stone." 

Then I cried aloud, "Fly! before over the sand 

This lord of creation arrives 
With his shot and his poAvder and gun in his hand. 

For the spoiling of innocent lives ! " 

Oh, stately and graceful and slender and tall 
The Heron stood silent and still, 



232 THE LOST BELL 

As if careless of warning and deaf to my call. 
Unconscious of danger or ill. 

"Fly! fly to some lonelier place, and fly fast! 

To the very Xortli Pole ! Anywhere ! " 
Then he rose and soared high, and swept eastward at 
last, 

Trailing long legs and wings in the air. 

"Now perhaps you may live and be happy," I said, 

" Sail away. Beauty, fast as you can ! 
Put the width of the earth and the breadth of the sea 

Betwixt you and the Being called Man." 



THE LOST BELL 

A LEGEND OF THE TSLAXD OF RUGEN IN THE 
BALTIC SEA 

"Oh, where is my bell," sighed the brownie, 
"]\ry sweet, sweet silver bell. 
That tinkled and swung from my scarlet cap; 
Now who in the world can tell ? " 

On the plain in the island of Rugen 

Danced the delicate fairy folk. 
And the tiny bell from the tiny cap 

Its curious fastening broke. 



THE LOST BELL 233 

The shepherd boy Fritz next morning, 

Driving his wandering sheep 
'Mid the scattered stones of the Giants' graves 

Saw the pretty plaything peep 

Sparkling among the heather, 

And fastened it to himself ; 
For how could he know that the bell belonged 

To an underground little elf? 

But the elf was in such trouble ! 

Aye, wandering up and down, 
He was searching here and searching there, 

With the tears on his cheek of brown. 

For while it was missing, no slumber 

Might visit the fairy's eyes; 
Still must he sleepless fill the air 

With mournful wails and cries. 

"Oh, who has borne off my treasure 
From the ground where it did lie ? 
Is it raven or crow or jackdaw ? 
Or magpie noisy and sly 1 " 

Then he changed his shape to a beautiful bird, 

And over the land he flew, 
Over the waters of Ralov, 

And the fields of green Unruh. 



234 THE LOST BELL 

He searched the nest of all the birds, 
He talked with them, great and small, 

But never a trace of the little bell. 
Could the brownie find at all. 

To the green, green fields of Unruh 
Went Fritz to pasture his sheep, 

For the place was sunny and fair and still 
And the grass grew thick and deep. 

The bird flew over. The sheep bells. 

Soft tinkling, sounded low; 
The wee fay thought of his talisman lost. 

And warbled sad and slow. 

The boy looked up and listened: 

"Now what can that queer bird be? 

If he thinks their bells make my cattle rich, 
Why, what would he think of me 1 " 

Then he drew forth from his pocket 
The treasure that he had found, 

And the magic silver rang out clear 
With a keen delicious sound. 

The sprite in tlie bird's shape heard it. 
And fairly shook with delight, 

Dropped down behind a bush near by, 
Hid safely out of sight. 



THE LOST BELL 235 

Swift drew off his dress of feathers, 

And took the shape of a crone 
Who hobbled up to the shepherd lad, 

And spoke in a coaxing tone: 

"Good-even, good friend, good-even! 
What a charming bell you ring! 
I 'd like such an one for my grandson — 
Will you sell me the pretty thing 1 " 

"No, no, for there isn't another 
In the whole wide world so fine; 
My sheep will follow its tinkle. 
And ask for no other sign. 

"Oh, listen! Can any sorrow 
Hold out against such a tone ? 
The weariest hour 'twill ring away. 
And conquer a heart of stone." 

The old dame offered him money, 

A glittering golden heap, 
But Fritz stood firm; "Nay, nay," he said, 

"My sweet, sweet bell I '11 keep." 

Then a shepherd stafi" she showed him. 

Most beautiful to see, 
Of snow-white wood all wrought and carved; 

"Take this, and the bell give me. 



236 THE LOST BELL 

"So long as you guide your cattle 
With this you will surely thrive, 
And all good fortune will follow 
Wherever your flocks you drive." 

She reached him the stick. Her gesture, 
So mystic, bewitched him quite, 

So strange and lovely her dazzling smile, 
He was blind in its sudden light. 

He stretched out his hand and, "Take it. 
The bell for the staff," he cried. 

Like a light breeze over the fields and trees 
The old crone seemed to glide. 

She was gone like the down of a thistle. 
Or as mists with the wind that blend, 

And a tiny whir like a whistle thin 
Set all his hair on end. 

The staff was his, but the bell was gone. 

Spirited quite away ; 
Fritz looked at his prize with doubtful eyes - 

But who so glad as the fay ? 

And he kept his fairy promise. 
And Fortune to Fritz was kind, 

For all his labors prospered, 

And all things worked to his mind. 



IN THE LILAC-BUSH 237 

Before he was eighteen, mark you, 

His flocks were his own to keep, 
And soon in the island of Eiigen 

He was master of all the sheep. 

At last he was able to purchase 

A knight's estate, and became 
A nobleman stately and gracious. 

With a loved and honored name. 

Now wouldn't you like, little people, 

Such a fairy treasure to find? 
Pick up from the grass such a magic bell 

And meet with a brownie so kind ? 



IN THE LILAC-BUSH 

Oh, look, where the lilac- bush, stout and tall. 

Growing close to the window low. 
Is hiding a robin's nest close to the wall. 

Softly piled with the light white snow ! 

Pray you, be careful, dear little folk gay. 

Spare the snug house that the pretty bird made ; 
Don't throw the storm of your snowballs this way. 

And in April your care will be more than repaid. 



238 IN THE LILAC-BUSH 

For back with the spring your small neighbor will flit 
Straight to his nest in the lilac-bush tall, 

Here 'mid the buds on the bough he will sit 

And talk to his mate with sweet twitter and call. 

Don't you remember his glowing red breast, 

And his olive brown coat and his shining black 
eyes? 

How he works for his dinner and watches his nest, 
A citizen sober and happy and wise ! 

Just out of the window you '11 have but to peep 

Into the nest, such a wonder to see ! 
The heaven-blue eggs, lying still and asleep, 

So soon all astir with the birdlings to be ! 

Think of the joy of that beautiful sight. 

And the rapture of bliss 'mid the lovely green leaves 
And the rich purple flowers, — a world of delight 

All safely shut in 'neath the sheltering eaves! 

Be careful, children, and kind in your play; 

Protect his dear home for the brave little bird; 
Don't charge with the storm of your snowballs this 
way. 
And when April comes back his sweet thanks will 
be heard. 



A POPPY SEED 239 



A POPPY SEED 

Tell you a story," my beautiful dear, 

" Of nixies, and pixies, and fairies with wings ? " 
Well, curl up close in the corner here. 

And I'll show you more astonishing things! 

I give you this small white packet to hold. 

"It rustles," you say. Both the ends are sealed. 
Patience a moment, and you shall be told 

Of the hundreds of captives that lie concealed 

In this little paper. "What, living things? " 
Yes, full of life. "Won't I take one out? " 

Yes, only be careful, — they have no wings. 

But your lightest breathing will blow them about. 

There, one in your warm pink palm I lay: 
You hardly can see it! "Does anything hide 

In that wee atom of dust ? " you say. 
Yes, wonderful glory is folded inside ! 

Robes, my dear, that are fit for kings; 

Scarlet splendor that dazzles the eyes; 
Buds, flowers, leaves, stalks, — so many things ! 

You look in my face with doubting surprise, 



24:0 A POPPY SEED 

And ask, "Is it really, truly true?" 

Ko fairy story at all this time ! 
Don't you remember the poppy that grew 

At the foot of the trellis where sweet peas climb, 

Last summer, close to the doorstep, where 

You and I loved to sit in the sun. 
And see the butterflies float in the air 

When the long bright day was almost done ? 

Don't you remember what joy we had 

Watching that poppy grow high and higher, 

In its lovely gray-green garments clad, 

Till the buds one evening showed streaks of fire. 

And next day — oh ! it was all ablaze ; 

Three or four flowers at once outburst 
In the early sun's low, golden rays — 

And you were down at the doorstep first — 

And what magnificence met our sight ! 

What a heavenly time we had, we two. 
Just adoring it, lost in delight ! 

For the gray-green leaves were spangled with dew, 

And the flowers, like banners of silken flame 
Unfurled, stood each on its slender stem, 

While the soft breeze over them went and came, 
Lightly and tenderly rocking them. 



A POPPY SEED 241 

Dearest, don't you remember it all? 

How still it was ! Not a wliisjjer of sound, 
Till a bird sang out from the garden wall. 

And you slid from the step and stood on the ground, 

And the poppy was higher than your bright head ! 

Gently downward one flower you bent 
To see in the midst of its burning red 

The delicate greens in a glory blent. 

Bronze-green pollen on glowing rays 

From a centre of palest emerald light 
In a brilliant halo beneath our gaze, — 

You haven't forgotten that exquisite sight? 

No, indeed! I was sure of it! Well, 

All that perfection of shape and hue, 
That wealth of beauty no tongue can tell, 

Lies hid in this seed I have given to you. 

Just such a speck in the friendly ground 
I planted last May by the doorstep Avide; 

The selfsame marvel that then we found 
This atom of dust holds shut inside. 

You can't believe it? But all are there, — 

Leaves, roots, flowers, stalks, color, and glow; 
Tell me a story that can compare 
Lj. With this for a wonder, if any yon knov/! 



242 BE LOVELY WITHIN 



BE LOVELY WITHIN 

Little Evelyn's cheeks bloomed in delicate pink, 
And her clustering hair framed with tendril and cur] 

A face so lovely yon never would think 

She could be for a moment a cross little girl. 

Yet cross she was, in a constant fret, 

Every hour she spoiled with some trouble or strife. 
Till every one said: "Well, I never have met 

Such an ill-natured child in the whole of my life ! '^ 

Her sister Peggy was plain and small, 

Freckled and homely, with straight brown hair; 

But you never thought of her looks at all, 

For she seemed to be everything sunny and fair. 

"I can't!'"' and "I won't!" that was Evelyn's cry 
From morning till night, against all she was told; 

While Peggy's low voice would be saying, "I '11 try," 
With a patience and hope that were good to behold. 

Till at last Peggy's freckles more beautiful grew 
In every one's sight than all Evelyn's charms 

Of pink cheeks, golden hair, and eyes violet blue; 
No one wished to fold her in affectionate arms! 



THE UNBIDDEN GUEST 243 

But Peggy ! Love found her wherever she went, 

Clasped her warm little hand and looked into her 
eyes, 

Smiled on her and blessed her with joy and content, 
For her spirit within was so sweet and so wise. 

Never mind, children dear, about plainness of face, 
But strive all you can to be lovely within. 

And the beautiful spirit will clothe you with grace, 
And this is a joy every mortal can win. 



THE UNBIDDEN GUEST 

On, sweetly the robin warbled, wooing his little mate 
Till she twittered her joyous answer, — he had not 
long to wait! 

Oh, the air was warm and spicy, there was sunshine and 

soft showers; 
To and fro they flitted gayly through the changeful 

April hours. 

They chose a quiet pine-tree and began to weave their 

nest 
Where a forked branch gave support on ^vhich their 

cosy home to rest. 



244 THE UNBIDDEN GUEST 

And happy, happy, happy, they worked from morn till 

night. 
Making the fragrant air to ring with carols of delight. 



With straws and sticks and twigs and threads and 

scraps and plastering clay, 
And bits of leaves and wool and shreds they worked 

the livelong day. 

We watched them finish all, and thought to peep in 

presently 
The lovely turquoise-colored eggs like jewels fair to 

see. 

They sought their dainty dwelling with the dawn's 

first rosy light; 
Oil, horror ! What was this strange thing that met their 

startled sight! 

Their pretty Avoven cradle cup was filled up to the 

brim 
With a huge cold mottled tree-toad, blinking o'er its 

tidy rim! 

So well content, so much at home his lazy toadship 

seemed ! 
While o'er him fluttered both the birds and scolded 

loud and screamed, 



THE UNBIDDEN GUEST 245 

And dashed at him with angry claw, and pecked with 

sharpened beak, 
Striving with all their tiny might vengeance on him to 

wreak. 

In vain, he would not budge an inch! He liked it 

much too well; 
So lazy, if he breathed or no, you could n't really 

tell. 

The frantic little house-builders took counsel thought- 

fully. 
Once more they swooped with ruffled plumes upon 

their enemy. 

And strove to hoist him o'er the edge, prying with 

beak and head 
And strenuous shoulder, but he lay heavy as lump of 

lead. 

What could they do 1 In deep despair upon a bough 

they sat. 
And gazed down at their hated guest, so ugly and so 

fat. 

And in their sweet bird language excitedly they talked, 
Debating eagerly how best that big toad could be 
balked. 



246 THE UNBIDDEN GUEST 

At last they settled it. They swept down on the nest 

again, 
With wrath and fury in their hearts, and then with 

might and main, 

Working below it swift they tore their cunning ma- 
sonry 
Piecemeal from underneath the toad reposing stupidly ! 

Crumbled the clay, outflew the shreds, the straws 

were scattered wide. 
Larger and larger grew the hole as fast their work they 

plied. 

Until at last a slip, a crash! Down came that clammy 

toad 
Thump! on the ground, and quawk! quoth he, and 

hopped across the road. 

And hid him in the grass, while high above his head 

the birds 
Sang Victory ! triumphantly, as plain as human words ! 

But they could not bear the sight of that dear ruined 

home of theirs. 
The centre of such hopes and joys, and such delightful 

cares. 



SIR WILLIAM PEPPERKELL'S WELL 247 

So they turned away and flew afar, and built another 

nest, 
And let us ho^De were spared the woe of such another 

guest ! 



SIR WILLIAM PEPPERKELL'S WELL 

ISLES OF SHOALS, A. D. 1790-1892 

Little maid Margaret and I, 
All in the sweet May weather. 
Roamed merrily and peacefully 
The island slopes together. 

The sun was midway in the west 
That golden afternoon; 
The sparrow sat above his nest 
And sang his friendly tune. 

The sky was clear, the sea was calm, 
The wind blew from the south 
And touched us with a breath of balm, 
And kissed her happy mouth. 

The joyful, smiling little maid! 

Her pretty hand in mine, — 
"Look, Thea, at the flowers,"' she said. 
" See how the eyebrights shine ! " 



248 SIR WILLIAM PEPPERRELL'S WELL 

Scattered like pearls all milky fair 
Where'er our feet were set, 
They glimmered, swayed by gentle air, 
For little Margaret. 

And here the crowfoot's gold was spilled, 
And there the violet 

Its cream-white buds with fragrance filled, 
And all for Margaret. 

I took a grassy path that led 

Into a rocky dell. 
"Come and I '11 show you, dear," I said, 
"Sir William Pepperrell's well." 

In the deep shadow of the rock 
The placid water hid, 
And seemed the sky above to mock 
Arums and ferns amid. 

"Is this Sir William Pepperrell's well? 

But, Thea, who was he 1 " 
"A nobleman, the records tell, 

A lord of high degree. " 

"And did he live here?" "Sometimes, yes; 
Yonder his house stood, dear. 
By all the scattered stones you 'd guess 
A dwelling once stood here. 



SIR WILLIAM PEPPERRELL'S WELL 249 

"There lie the doorsteps large and square, 
Where feet went out and in 
Long years ago; a broken stair; 
And here the walls begin.'' 

"How long ago did they live here? '' 

Gravely the small maid spoke; 
"And tell me, did you know them, Thea, — 

Sir William Pepperrell's folk?" 

"A hundred years they have been dead, — 

No, dear, we never met ! '' 
"But, Thea, you're so old," she said, 
*' You know you might forget ! 

"I 'm only six, I 'm very new, 
I can't remember much." 
She clasped me, as she nearer drew, 
With light and gentle touch. 

"Tell me, where are they now? " asked she. 

Oh, question ages old! 
"That, Margaret, is a mystery 

No mortal has been told. 

"Here stood the house, there lies the well, 
And nothing more we know. 
Except that history's pages tell 
They lived here long ago." 



250 THE CHICKADEE 

With serious eyes she gazed at me, 
And for a moment's space 
A shadow of perplexity 
Mitted across her face. 

Then dancing down the sunlit way 
She gathered hud and bell, 
And 'mid its ferns forgotten lay 
Sir William Pepperrell's well. 



THE CHICKADEE 

Care keeps its hold with constant clasp, 

Whatever may betide us; 
Grief waits the shrinking heart to grasp, 
Pacing, half veiled, beside us. 
But oh, the sky is blue. 

And oh, the sun is bright! 
And the chickadee in the dark pine-tree 
Carols his meek delight. 

The earth in silent snows is bound; 

Want grinds and pain oppresses; 
Life's awful problems who shall sound? 

Its riddles sad who guesses? 

But oh, the sky is blue, 
And oh, the sun is bright! 



SPRING PLANTING-TIME 251 

And the chickadee in the tall pine-tree 
Sings in the cold's despite. 

Give me of thy wise hope, dear bird, 
Who brav'st the bitter weather! 
Share the glad message thou hast heard, 
And let us sing together. 
The winter winds blow wild, 
No storm can thee affright. 
Thy trust teach me, chickadee, 
Sweet chanting from thy height. 



SPEING PLANTING-TIME 

What will you sow, little children, what will you 
sow? 

In your garden you wish that sweet flowers would 
blossom and grow ? 

Then be careful to choose from the myriads of wonder- 
ful seeds 

The caskets that lock up delight, and beware of the 
weeds ! 

If you sow nettles, alas for the crop you will reap ! 
Stings and poison and pain, bitter tears for your eyes 
to weep. 



252 SPRING PLANTING-TIME 

If you plant lilies and roses and pinks and sweet peas 
What beauty will charm you, what perfumes on every 
breeze ! 

Thus will it be, little folk, in the garden of life; 

Sow seeds of ill-nature, you '11 reap only sorrow and 

strife ; 
But pleasant, kind words, gentle deeds, happy thoughts 

if you sow, 
What roses and lilies of love will spring round you 

and grow ! 

Smiles will respond to yours, brighter than marigolds 

are. 
And sweeter than fragrance of any sweet flower, by 

far; 
From the blossoms of beautiful deeds will a blessing 

arise. 
And a welcome at sight of you kindle in every one's 

eyes. 

Then what will you sow, my dear children, what will 

you sow ? 
Seeds of kindness, of sweetness, of patience, drop 

softly, and lo ! 
Love shall blossom around you in joy and in beauty, 

and make 
A garden of Paradise here upon earth for your sake. 



THE ALBATKOSS 253 



THE ALBATROSS 

He spreads his wings like banners to the breeze, 
He cleaves the air afloat on pinions wide, 

Leagues upon leagues across the lonely seas 
He sweeps above the vast, uneasy tide. 

For days together through the trackless skies. 
Steadfast, without a quiver of his plumes, 

Without a moment's pause for rest he flies 

Through dazzling sunshine and through cloudy 
glooms. 

Down the green gulfs he slides, or skims the foam. 

Searching for booty with an eager eye, 
Hovering aloft where the long breakers comb 

O'er wrecks forlorn that topple helplessly. 

He loves the tempest, he is glad to see 

The roaring gale to heaven the billows toss. 

For strong to battle with the storm is he, 
The mystic bird, the wandering albatross! 



254 THE NEW YEAR 



THE KEW YEAR 

The snow lies still and white, 
At the gate of the glad iNew Year, 
Whose face with hope is bright 
Though the wintry world is drear. 

She smiles with welcome sweet, 
She speaks in accents mild; 
Enter with willing feet 
And the heart of a little child. 

So shall you treasures find 
Better than lands or gold, 
Friends that are true and kind, 
Love that is wealth untold. 

Humbly my lessons learn, 
So shall you wisdom gain 
Deep peace your soul shall earn 
Through the discipline of pain. 

Hark to the New Year's voice 
With its promise of hope and cheer! 
Courage, brave hearts, rejoice! 
For God is always near. 



AN OPEN SECRET 255 

Skies may be dark with storm, 
While fierce the north wind blows, 
Yet earth at heart is warm, 
And the snowdrift hides the rose. 



AN OPEN SECRET 

What is it that gives to the plainest face 
The charm of the noblest beauty ? 

Not the thought of the duty of happiness, 
But the happiness of duty ! 

This is life's lesson, children dear, 
They are blest who learn it early. 

For it brightens the darkest way with cheer 
Though Fortune's face is surly. 

There 's a certain narrow, quiet path 

Of daily thinking and living, 
Of little acts of sacrifice. 

Of loving and forgiving, — 

Of patience and obedience. 

Of gentle speech and action. 
Of choosing the right and leaving the wrong 

With a sunny satisfaction, — 



256 GRANDMOTHER TO HER GRANDSON 

And if we never leave this path 

For the thing the world calls pleasure, 

There will come to meet us a heavenly joy 
Beyond all power to measure. 

For on this narrow, quiet way 

God's angels move forever. 
Waiting to crown with cheer divine 

Our every high endeavor. 

Yes, this is what lends to the lowliest face 
The charm of the noblest beauty; 

Not the thought of the duty of happiness, 
But the happiness of duty ! 



GRANDMOTHER TO HER GRANDSON 

On, what are all life's treasures worth 

Compared to this love and its sweet surprise. 

My little heaven upon the earth, 

With your pale gold hair and your serious eyes 

Who could have dreamed that a joy like this 
Lay in wait on life's downward slope, 

To flood the heart with a freshet of bliss. 
And brighten eve with the morning's hope! 



GRANDMOTHER TO HER GRANDSOX 257 

How dear the sound of the little feet, 

And the clasp of the little hand how dear . 

And the little voice that falls so sweet, 
Like trilling music upon my ear! 

Oh, to shield you from all life's harms, 

My fair white lamb with the innocent eyes, 

To gather you close in my loving arms 

Safe from the frown of the lowering skies! 

But into the wide world you must go 

From home's soft nest and its shelter warm, 

Sorrow to meet and care to know 

In ways that are rough and dark with storm. 

Heaven be good to you, dearest one ! 

Help you to fight all the powers of ill, 
Through life's long day to its setting sun 

Keep you God's soldier conquering still. 



The Riverside School Library. 

Under this general name are published, in firm ai 
attractive style, yet at moderate prices, a series of V( 
umes peculiarly suited for School Libraries. They are 
chosen largely from the best literature which has stood 
the test of the world's judgment, and yet is as fresh and 
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In the selection of the volumes comprising this Library 
the publishers have been assisted by more than one hun- 
dred of the best educators of American youth. 

The volumes are edited with great care, and com , 
portraits and biographical sketches of the authors; also; 
notes and glossaries wherever needed. They are thor-' 
oughly well printed, and bound substantially in dark red 
half leather, with cloth sides. In every respect they com- 
mend themselves to all who wish that pupils may have the 
best, most interesting, and most salutary reading. 

It is hoped that the reading of these books will pro- 
mote a love for good literature, and prevent or correct the 
taste for reading the trashy and unwholesome stories that 
constantly tempt the young. 

It is believed that the use of this series will give a. 
strong impetus to the movement for supplying schools 
with thoroughly good libraries, which must be regarded 
as among the most potent instrumentalities for the pro- 
motion of good citizenship, and the development of intel- 
ligence, refinement, and high character among the boys 
and girls so fortunate as to enjoy their influence. 



l\i\)ersttie ^c|)ool ilitrarp 

A SERIES OF BOOKS OF PERMANENT VALUE 
CAREFULLY CHOSEN, THOROUGHLY ED- 
ITED, CLEARLY PRINTED, DURABLY 
BOUND IN HALF LEATHER 
AND SOLD AT LOW 
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PREPARED WITH SPECIAL REGARD 
FOR AMERICAN SCHOOLS 

*** All the books named are i6mo in size, except wlien otherwise indicated. 



Andersen, Hans Christian, Stories by. \\'ith a Por- 
trait. 208 pp. 50 cents. 

All of Andersen's short stories would require two large vol- 
umes, but he was an unequal .writer, and the collection here 
given contains his best known and most attractive stories. 
The translator has followed carefully the very simple style of 
Andersen, so that the book can be read by any one who has 
mastered the second reader, and by some who have mastered 
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contributed to literature, so thoroughly does he understand a 
child's imagination. The Preface gives a pleasant glimpse of 
the man. 

Arabian Nights, Tales from the. In preparation. 
Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table, The. By Oliver 
Wendell Holmes. With a Biographical Sketch and 
Portrait. 345 pp. 60 cents. 

Dr. Holmes lived to see The Autocrat read by the grand- 

I 



children of those who read it when it first appeared, and age 
does not diminish the charms of the juiciest book in American 
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conversationalist to read this book, and the imaginary charac- 
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come to be as well known to readers as many more loquacious 
persons. A sketch gives the outline of the author's career. 

Being a Boy. By Charles Dudley Warner. . In 

pj-fparatioji. 

Birds and Bees, and other Studies in Nature. By 

John Burroughs. With a Biographical Sketch, Por- 
trait, and Notes. 286 pp. 60 cents. 

John Burroughs has taken his place as one of the most de- 
lightful writers in America on subjects connected with nature. 
His observation is close, and his manner is most friendly as 
he discourses of birds, bees, trees, berries, herbs, landscapes, 
flowers. 

Bird - W^ays. l>y Olive Thorne Miller. With aj 
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In fourteen sketches of the American Robin, Wood Thrush» , 
European Song Thrush, Cat-bird, Redwing P)lack-bird, Balti- 
more Oriole and House Sparrow. Mr*;. Miller gi>'es the habits j 
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value of her studies is in their consideration of particular birds. . 

Captains of Industry. By James Parton. In twO' 

series. Each 400 pp. 60 cents. 

In these two volumes are contained ninety-four brief, pungent 
biographies, most of them relating to men of business who did 
something, as Mr. Parton says, besides making money. Some 
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pith of the subject. 

Child Life in Poetry and Child Life in Prose, Selec- 
tions from. Edited by John Greenleaf Whittier. 
196 pp. 50 cents. 

Mr. Whittier, aided by Miss Larcom, made two considerable 
collections of poetry and prose, from the writings of well- 
known authors. The present volume contains the choicest 

2 



of these selections, with a view to meeting the needs of the 
younger readers. 

Children's Hour, The, and other Poems. By 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. With a Biographi- 
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In this volume are gathered the most popular of Long- 
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Christmas Carol in Prose, A, and The Cricket on 
the Hearth. By Charles Dickens. With a Sketch 
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tions. 230 pp. 50 cents. 
These two stories are the most famous and delightful of the 

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Enoch Arden and other Poems. By Alfred, Lord 
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Essays and Poems. By Ralph Waldo Emerson. /;/ 

preparation. 
Evangeline and The Song of Hiawatha. With a 
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.Longfellow, Longfellow at Home by Alice M. Longfel- 
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The two long narrative poems by which the poet is best 
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Fables and Folk Stories. By Horace E. Scudder. 
With Frontispiece Illustration. 200 pp. 50 cents. 
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3 



the second reader. IMillais's Cinderella furnishes the frontis- 
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Franklin's Autobiography. With a Sketch of his 

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With three Illustrations, a Map, and a Chronological 

Table. 267 pp. 50 cents. 

Benjamin Franklin wrote many letters and scientific treatises, 
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German Household Tales. By the Brothers Grlmm. 
/// prtpa ration. 

Grandfather's Chair, and Biographical Stories and 
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Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill Battle, andj 
Other Verse and Prose. By Oliver Wendell 
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Gulliver's Travels. The Voyage to Lilliput and 
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4 



Holland, Brave Little, and What She Taught Us. 

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Japanese Interior, A. By Alice Bacon. 228 pp. 

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Lady of the Lake, The. By Sir Walter Scott. 

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5 



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Lilliput and Brobdingnag, The Voyage to. See 

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Milton's Minor Poems and Three Books of Para- 
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New England Girlhood, A, Outlined from Memory. 

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Pilgrim's Progress, The. By John Bunyan. In pre- 
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Polly Oliver's Problem. By Kate Douglas Wiggin. 

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Rab and his Friends ; and Other Dogs and Men. By 
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The touching story of Rab -^nd his Friends has introduced 
6 



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7 



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9 



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10 



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any address on application. 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

4 Park Street, Boston; 11 East 17th Street, New York; 
158 Adams Street, Chicago. 



A Condensed List of the Riverside School Library 

Descriptions of these Ji/ty books lu ill be found in the preceding pages 

Published June 6, 1S96. Cents 

Andersen. Stories ^^ 

Cooper. The Last of the Mohicans no 

Fiske. The War of Independence .". ! . 60 

•50 
so 



Frankiin. Autobiography 
Goldsmith. The- Vicar of Wakefield. 



Holmes. The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table 60 

Lamb. Tales from Shakespeare .60 

Scott. Ivanhoe -o 

Scudder. George Washington '(jo 

Stowe. Uncle Tom's Cabin ..\. no 

Most of the following will be published August 22, 1896; a few of the prices 
are subject to slight clianges. 

Aldrich. The Story of a Bad Boy 70 

Arabian Nights, Tales from the 50 

Bacon. A Japanese interior 60 

Brown, John. Rab and his Friends, and Other Dogs and Men 60 

Bunyan. The Pilgrim's Progress 60 

Burroughs. Birds and Bees, and Other Studies in Nature 60 1 

Dana. Two Years Before the Mast 70 

Defoe. Robinson Crusoe 60 

Dickens. A Christmas Carol, and The Cricket on the Hearth 50 ■ 

Eliot, George. Silas Marner 50 , 

Emerson. Essavs and Poems 50 , 

Griffis. Brave Little Holland 60 

Grimm. German Household Tales 50 

Hawthorne. The Wonder-Piook, and Tanglewood I'ales 70 J 

" The House of the Seven Gables 70 < 

" Grandfather's Chair, and Biographical Stories 70 J 

Holmes. Grandmother's Story, and My Hunt after the Captain 50 

Hughes. Tom Brown's School Days 60 

Irving. Essays from the Sketch Book 50 

Jewett, Sarah Orne. Tales of New England 60 

Larcom, Lucy. A New England Girlhood 60 

Longfeilow. Evangeline, and The Song of Hiawatha 60 

" Tales of a Wayside Inn 60 

" The Children's Hour, and Other Poems 60 

Lowell. The Vision of Sir Launfal, and Other Verse and Prose 60 

Miller, Olive Thorne. Bird-Ways 60 

Milton. Minor Poems, and Books I. -III. of Paradise Lost 50 

Parton. Captains of Industry, First Series 60 

" Captains of Industry, Second Series 60 

Richardson, Abbv Sage. Stories from Old English Poetry 60 

Scott. The Lady of the Lake 60 

Shakespeare. JuHus Caesar, and As You Like It 50 

Scudder. Fables and Folk-Stories 5^ 

Swift. Gulliver's Voyages to Lilliput and Brobdingnag 50 

Thaxter, Celia. Stories and Poems for Children 60 

Tennyson. Enoch Arden, and Other Poems 5° 

Warner. Being a Boy 70 

Wiggin, Kate Douglas. Polly Oliver's Problem 60 

Whittier. Snow-Bound, The Tent on the Beach, and Other Poems 60 

" Selections from Child Life in Poetry and Prose 5"^ 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

Boston, New York, Chicago 



